Pressure Point
by The Flame and Hawk's Eye
Summary: Edward Elric cannot stomach the guilt. Feeling responsible for the abduction of Riza Hawkeye, he vows to do whatever it takes to help Roy Mustang pick up the pieces. As he gets further into the case, Edward too finds that those he cherishes most, his pressure points, are targeted. Will they be able to find those responsible, or pay the ultimate price? Royai, Parental!RoyEd,EdWin
1. Eyes of Wrath

**Author's note:** **Hello everyone! This is my first Fullmetal Alchemist fanfiction, though it's not my first fanfiction piece ever. I have written a couple of InuYasha pieces; though it's been a long time! Here's a bit of background information on the story.**

**This fanfiction takes place approximately 8ish months after the Promised Day. The primary relationships/pairings are Royai (as you will see, my OTP) and Parental!RoyEd. As the story progresses, I will be getting EdWin blended in as well :)**

**A word of caution: This story does contain violent themes, such as torture and graphic description, as well as some profanity (hence, the T rating). Before each chapter, I will note what some of the themes are in case you are squeamish.**

**So, without further ado; **_**Pressure Point.**_

* * *

_Pressure point (n): a weak point on the human body; a person's weakness that can be used against them in order to cause harm._

* * *

_Thump thump… thump thump…_

Riza Hawkeye knew she was dying.

_Thump thump… thump thump…_

For the past hour she could feel her pulse becoming weaker, the time between beats becoming increasingly drawn out. The only thing binding her to this world was the agonizing pain she felt radiating throughout her entire body.

_Thump thump… thump thump…_

She gripped the fresh wound at her side, taking a sharp breath as she did. This only caused more pain to rip through her. At that point, however, stimulating the wound was the one thing that kept her breathing. Riza had quickly discovered that the oxygen her body had once craved suddenly seemed more like a burden than a necessity. She would have stopped breathing a long time ago if she could, but her body still had an infinitesimal need for air.

She exhaled slowly.

_Thump thump… thump… thump…_

Her whole body trembled. She could feel the heat leaving her body, the only source of any warmth being the sticky, crimson blood that poured from her wound. It hurt. Her whole body hurt. It hurt to breath. It hurt just existing…

She found herself becoming increasingly irritated at her body's determination to live. Hadn't she suffered enough? Why was her body subjecting itself to more pain by continuing to function? Riza had accepted that there was no one coming to find her. There would be no rescue. Any and all hope of one had died as the weeks and months dragged on. She wondered if the military had abandoned its efforts in finding her, if there were any to begin with. Quickly shoving that thought aside, she decided that, at least at one point, there had been an effort. They- or rather, he- had probably turned the entire Ishvalan town they were stationed at upside-down in his efforts. Roy Mustang never gave up on anyone.

_Thump… thump…_

The thought of her superior officer made Riza's heart ache. She hoped that he wouldn't grieve. He didn't have time to weep over her. He needed to complete his goal of restoring Ishval and bringing peace. He had to keep his eyes fixated on his dream of becoming the Fuhrer.

Riza felt hot tears stinging her eyes. She hated herself. She hated that she couldn't be there any longer to protect him. Hated that she wouldn't be there to see him accomplish his dream. And most importantly, Riza hated that she would never see him or hear his voice again.

She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the tears roll down her cheeks. Taking a quick, ragged breath, she allowed her muscles to relax. It suddenly felt as if a heavy weight were placed on her chest. The once agonizing pain that radiated throughout her had become dull.

Riza knew her time was up.

Exhaling, she succumbed to the darkness.

_Thump…_

* * *

Edward Elric sat motionlessly, eyes fixed on the weapon in his lap. _Funny_, he thought to himself, _it seems so harmless now…_ However, he knew the devastating consequences once the trigger has been pulled. Why had they given it to him in the first place? They knew his thoughts about guns. Did they honestly expect him to pull the trigger? Even though he had lost his alchemical abilities, he was still able to hold his own in a fight.

Unless…

He slowly raised his eyes to look at the man sitting in front of him. Even though the desert caravan rattled along as they drove, Roy Mustang seemed to remain still, unswaying. As if he was made of stone. His elbows were firmly planted on his knees, fingers woven together. The Brigadier General had his forehead rested upon them, lost in thought. Raven-colored hair cast shadows on his face, hiding his eyes.

Had he been able to peer into those eyes, Edward knew what he would see. Exhaustion. Resentment. Wrath… For the past three long, grueling months, he had watched that rage slowly build up and spill over into the superior officer's eyes. The transformation was terrifying to watch.

The boy turned his gaze downward and shuddered. His eyes once again were fixated on the gun. _Unless… he's not looking for a fight. _

He had seen what Mustang was capable of on the Promised Day. Seen what he was able to do with his powerful flame alchemy. But they… she… had been there to talk him down. To guide him back to the correct path once more. Now that she was gone, there wasn't a force strong enough to oppose or even stop him.

Edward clenched his jaw and tightened his fists_. _No… this was the best lead they've had. This had to be it… This had to guide them to her!

He slowly relaxed his hands and tried to breathe. His stomach knotted up as a wave of dread washed over him. _If it hadn't been for me, we wouldn't be in this mess right now. If I had just followed those stupid, simple orders, then maybe-_

"Elric!"

His eyes immediately snapped upward, caught off-guard by the sudden interruption of his thoughts. His eyes were met with those he had grown to fear – eyes filled with despair and rage. After only a few moments, the blonde lowered his gaze then slowly peered up submissively. _How long has he been calling my name?_

"Are you listening," the Flame Alchemist snarled, narrowing his eyes at the young boy.

Edward slowly nodded.

"Good. Because I will _not_ be repeating myself." Before he went on, Roy Mustang turned his gaze, meeting the eyes of each person in their company. Besides the usual Mustang team members, three additional men had accompanied them. Edward noticed that his eyes simply slid over them, barely acknowledging them. Finally, his eyes again found themselves on the young former alchemist. "This mission is a simple one. We are to search for and rescue one Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye.

"Should you come across anyone you may think may be involved; you are not to kill them. We need them alive for further interrogation and possible motive." His eyes again scanned their faces. "I will lead. Should we need to split up, you are to travel in pairs. No one, and I mean _no one, _will be allowed to search on their own." Again, his glare landed on Edward, dark eyes boring into his golden ones. "Are we understood?"

"Yes, sir," the group of men cried out in unison.

Tearing his piercing stare away from Edward, Mustang turned to the front of the vehicle. "Fuery," he barked. "How much further?"

The younger, black-haired man squeaked and quickly adjusted his glasses. "According to the map, sir, we are approximately three kilometers from the edge of Turlorn."

Edward furrowed his brow. He had heard of the small Ishvalan town before. After the military invaded and decimated it and its citizens, they had temporarily set up an encampment there. However, once the military had advanced further into Ishvalan land, they essentially abandoned the small town, going as far, it would appear, to completely remove its existence from any and all maps. And that, Edward knew, was the reason why it had taken them nearly twelve weeks to get there.

"Hey, Boss; look alive. We're just about there." Edward glanced up to see that first Lieutenant Havoc, who was sandwiched in the front seat between Second Lieutenant Falman and First Sergeant Fuery, had turned around and was watching his superior intently, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips.

Squinting past the blonde officer, Edward could just barely make out a set of ruins outlined by the setting orange sun. _So that's Turlorn…_ He could see why the military had forgotten about this particular town. From what he could see, it now only consisted of one, large building with a couple scattered around it. _Shouldn't be too hard to navigate._

Again, Edward was jolted out of his thoughts when he was launched forward and out of his seat. The vehicle had come to a sudden and complete stop behind a large hill of sand. He looked up, realizing that he had fallen into the lap of Brigadier General Mustang. Scrambling, he threw himself off of his superior's lap and onto the floor as the group of men milled around him and out of the vehicle. After a few moments, only those two remained. Edward quickly cast his gaze downward, his face burning red with embarrassment.

Normally, Mustang would take the opportunity to shoot a snarky comment toward the boy, which Edward would then counter with an insult about the General's intelligence or ego. For a split second, Edward hoped that somewhere, deep down, the Mustang that he loved to hate and hated to love was still there. Instead, to Edward's crushing disappointment, the superior officer only stood and shoved his way past the former alchemist. Dazed and surprisingly hurt, Edward quickly grabbed his gun and pocketed it, clambered to his feet, and jumped out of the vehicle, finding himself next to Lieutenant Havoc.

The blonde lieutenant turned and flashed a small, but sincere, smile down at the boy. "Ready, Chief?"

Edward forced a smile. "Yeah…" he replied as he cast his gaze toward Mustang.

Before the Flame Alchemist could open his mouth to address them, he was interrupted by a gasp that originated above and behind him. Edward craned his head back to see the silhouette of a person atop the sandy hill they had positioned themselves behind. "Hey!" Before he realized what he was doing, Edward pushed past the other officers and raced up the dune toward the figure. Startled by the boy's sudden actions, the dark figure bolted down the other side. As Edward reached the top, he heard a loud bang, stopping him dead in his tracks.

He looked down the sand dune, eyes slowly widening with horror. The figure he was chasing was lying motionless on his back, blood spilling out from a self-inflicted wound to the head. Edward tried to move his legs, but found that he couldn't. "Damn it," he cried out. _Move… move!_ He couldn't do it; his emotions and body had betrayed him.

He felt a sudden rush of air as Mustang and two additional soldiers sprinted past him. Edward could only watch as Mustang kneeled next to the fallen man, pressing his fingers to his neck. Edward could tell by his eyes, though, that Mustang already knew he was dead. He watched as Mustang clenched his hand into a fist and punched the ground, crying out in anger.

"Damn…" Edward turned at the sudden voice, realizing that Lieutenant Breda was standing next to him. The heavyset man scowled as the remaining men dashed past them.

Edward looked away, scrunching his face in disgust. "We were supposed to bring them back alive, right?"

"Not only that," Breda began, "but now I doubt we'll find any of 'em."

"Why's that?" Edward again turned his focus to Mustang. The Flame Alchemist was still on his knees, fist firmly planted in the sand. His raven-black hair shielding his eyes from view. The very sight of the General in that state of mind caused Edward's stomach to lurch.

"He shot himself so we couldn't get any information out of 'im. That gunshot signaled to the others that we're here." Breda glared as Mustang got to his feet and began racing toward the largest, central building. "We'd better find something," he murmured as he made his way past Edward and down the steep, sandy dune.

Edward gulped, trying desperately to calm his feelings of dread before dashing after them.

The small platoon quickly reorganized themselves outside the largest building: the former military command center. After waiting a few additional moments for everyone to collect themselves, Mustang began to speak. "After what we've just witnessed, you know that they could very well be long gone. However," he gazed at each and every one of them, "do not let your guard down and remain with your partner. Unless you come across something, you are to report back here in exactly one hour. If you happen to find something, you are to light the flare issued to each of you."

Edward shoved his hands into his pockets, eyes cast downward, again feeling the General's cold stare. He would probably want to watch him, tote him along to make sure he didn't mess up again. He hated being babysat by the older man…

Instead, much to the former alchemist's surprise, Mustang turned to the other blonde-haired member of their small caravan. "Havoc, you're with me."

"Right, boss." The Lieutenant obediently moved and stood at his superior's side.

Turning to the rest of the team, Mustang barked, "Everyone else, pair up and _move_," turning the end of the sentence into a command. The soldiers frantically divided into pairs before heading off in separate directions.

"C'mon kid, you're with me," Lieutenant Breda brushed past Edward, making his way toward the eastern side of the command center. Edward obeyed, falling into step next to the soldier.

As they reached the door, Edward cast one last look over his shoulder. He watched as Mustang and Havoc disappeared around the corner of the building. After watching the spot for a few more moments, Edward turned away and shoved his hands in his back into pockets, feeling the grip of the gun. 

* * *

Once they were inside, Edward realized just how right Breda had been. They had walked into the building's massive dining hall, which, Edward noted, was littered with trash, shell-casings, and overturned chairs. It appeared as if whoever had been there had just left. Lanterns and torches lined the walls, casting large, ominous shadows across the room. The walls themselves were chipped and cracked, having lost their last layer of paint years ago. Something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. Turning slightly, Edward realized that it was a large, red stain splattered across the wall. He squinted. "Is that…"

Edward took a step forward, only to hear a loud _crunch._ Both he and Breda jumped at the sound. Raising his foot, Edward revealed a crumbled up aluminum can.

"Keep your eyes peeled for a set of stairs," Breda noted, recovering from the sound. "Since this command center was erected in Ishval during the war, I bet there's a sub-level." The soldier kicked some of the litter aside and began making his way down the closest hallway.

Edward knew exactly what for. During the Ishvalan Extermination Campaign, thousands upon thousands of Ishvalan citizens were murdered, arrested, or experimented on. Once he caught up with the Lieutenant, he narrowed his golden eyes, "They needed a place to keep their prisoners, right?"

"Yeah…" Breda trailed off, quickening his pace.

The pair turned another corner, finding themselves at the top of a narrow, winding staircase. "Bingo…" Breda muttered. Their noses crinkled at the smell of the cool, musty air that leaked from it. _Finally…_

Without wasting any time, Edward suddenly took off down the stairs, much to the dismay of his partner. He heard a cry from behind him, but he didn't slow down. They had found it, so why pause and admire it?

Once he reached the bottom of the stairs, Edward began to sprint faster. After running a few meters, he caught glimpses of small, barred rooms to either side of him. His eyes scanned them as he raced past. All of them were empty, or, at least, devoid of what they were looking for. He saw glimpses of aged, cracking skeletal remains in some of them. He felt nauseated at the very thought of the war. _Probably the remains of Ishvalans they left here to die and rot after this place was abandoned. _

His thoughts were interrupted for the third time that evening when he skidded to a stop in front of a cement wall. He turned his head back and forth frantically, until he realized that the hall continued to his right. This hallway, however, contained only a singular lantern that hung loosely next to a fortified, steel door. He raced over to it and cursed. The door was locked with an enormous, steel padlock. Looking around, Edward couldn't find a key, brick, or stone he could use. Without a second thought, he ripped the boot of his automail leg off and began to smash his heel into it. His joints moaned and creaked under the strain, but he didn't care.

Finally the lock gave. Edward ripped it off and pulled on the door. It was surprisingly heavy, but that didn't stop him from flinging it open. A small amount of light from the lantern behind him rushed into and flooded the unbearably small area.

His heart stopped.

There, curled up in front of him, was Riza Hawkeye. 

* * *

**Let me know what you think. I'm not too sure how long the story will be, but it will probably be at least 20+ chapters. I'd love some feedback!**


	2. Crimson

**Author's Note: Thank you for the reviews and favorites/follows everyone, especially Zangetsu50, daughterXofXdarnkness, freebird2992, and Puddycat for writing such kind words of review. So far, the story had 60 views in its first day. It really means a lot.**

**Now, I'm not the best writer (my major is the total opposite, actually), so I'm mostly writing fanfiction to let my creative juices flow and to allow myself a break from the rigors of studying. Feel free to point out any grammatical errors, comprehension errors, etc. so that I can correct them and strengthen my writing skills. Being in graduate school now also means that I may not have as much time for writing, but since it's still summer, I will try to write out as many chapters as I can while maintaining the same or better quality of writing. I'm hoping that once classes start again, I can at least get one chapter out every one to two weeks. We shall see!**

**I'd actually already had Chapter 2 written up, but wasn't entirely happy with a few of the parts, so this is the edited and finalized copy. I'm surprised how much I actually changed in this chapter. My vision for it completely changed once I reread it. Be sure to pay close attention to choice of words in some instances. I chose those words for a reason (foreshadowing!).**

**Warning: Graphic content in this chapter. Reader discretion is advised.**

**Disclaimer: As much as I wish it were true, I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or its characters. However, I do own any OCs created.**

**Now, back to Chapter 2: **_**Crimson.**_

* * *

Only the sound of boots pounding on the uneven cobblestone floors could be heard as two uniformed men navigated the decaying ruins of the former military command center. Every attempt by the blond at breaking the silence between the two had been in vain. In a last ditch effort, Havoc removed the unlit cigarette from his mouth and cleared his throat. "Hey, boss, mind if I ask you something?"

He waited. With each passing second, the blond grew anxious, desperately wanting a reply. He was about to give up on trying when he heard a small sigh from his superior, whom was four steps ahead of him.

"What is it," the black-haired alchemist asked sharply.

"Well, uh…" Havoc began, trying to find the right words. "Uh… the guys and I were wondering… uhmm..." He reached up and behind his head with his free hand to massage an imaginary kink in his neck, casting his eyes downward. "We were wondering why…"

Havoc jumped as Roy Mustang whirled around to face him, his midnight eyes narrowed with annoyance. "Just spit it out, Havoc."

Gulping nervously, Havoc managed to muster up the courage he needed to continue. "We were just wondering… Why are you being so hard on the chief?"

"We don't have time for this, Havoc," Mustang snapped as he began to turn away.

Havoc walked forward, closing the distance between them. He reached up and caught his superior's shoulder. "Look, sir, sometimes I think you forget that he's still just a kid. He's-"

"He is just a kid… a kid that can't follow some simple fucking orders," Mustang snapped, shrugging Havoc's hand off his shoulder. He turned and began walking back down the long, narrow hallway, leaving the blond lieutenant standing alone, utterly defeated.

"Sir, please-" He was interrupted by the sound of boots pounding on the floor behind them. The two men spun around and raised their guns, pointing them into the darkness. The footsteps then slowed to a quick jog. Their guns remained raised until a large, heavyset form emerged from the blackness. As he stepped forward, Mustang and Havoc lowered their weapons, eyeing the man with concern.

Lieutenant Breda stopped in front of them, his hands on his knees, desperately trying to catch his breath. Havoc rushed forward and patted the man's back, helping him regain his composure. Finally managing to take a deep breath, Breda stammered, "Ed-Edward… h-he… !"

Mustang strode forward and crouched in front of his wheezing subordinate, his face inches from the lieutenant's. "Where is he?" he demanded, his voice surprisingly sprinkled with concern.

Breda slowly raised his head. "H-he… he took off! D-downs-stairs!"

"What sector?"

"We were… were in the eastern-"

Before Breda finished, the Brigadier General had already pushed past the two men, making his way toward the eastern part of the abandoned headquarters.

Havoc and a still-wheezing Breda desperately jogged after their superior, trying to match his pace. The raven-haired alchemist holstered his gun and pulled his ignition gloves from his pocket. As he slipped them on, the two officers heard him mutter, "Simple. Fucking. Orders..."

* * *

Moments after he had thrust open the steel door; Edward Elric was hit with the putrid scents of decay, iron, and mildew. His eyes watered and burned from the sudden sensory overload. He coughed and gagged, wiping the water from his eyes.

He opened his eyes slowly and looked down, realizing what he had just stumbled upon. Edward's knees buckled, and he sank to the ground. Despite the blurred vision caused by his stinging eyes, Edward refused to take his eyes off of her. _Am I… too late…?_

She was lying motionlessly on her right side, her back facing him. Riza's right arm was wrapped around herself, feebly grasping a fresh, seeping wound that had been inflicted on her left side. Crimson blood dripped from her tattered military jacket, forming a dark red puddle beneath her. Aside from the constant _drip_ he could hear from the small droplets making contact with the small pool of blood, Edward could not hear or see any movement. No signs of life.

Nothing.

Still, he reached forward, right hand trembling. He was terrified. Terrified that his hand would be met with the cold, stiff sensation of death. Terrified that his golden eyes would inevitably lock with lifeless mahogany ones. Terrified knowing that Mustang's heart would shatter…

His hand now hovered just centimeters above her shoulder. Suddenly, he stopped. Something out of the corner of his eye glistened, catching his attention. His eyes darted over to it. A small, barbed metal pole was protruding from the ground and leaning against her. Golden eyes narrowed, trying to make sense of the random, misplaced object. He leaned closer, eyes running down the length of it.

His eyes widened as curiosity turned to horror. The long, metallic object had been driven through her arm, jutting out at her elbow, running parallel to the bone. Through the tattered fabric he could see necrotic, black flesh surrounding the area it protruded from. That gangrenous scent he had been hit with earlier was… _Decaying flesh…_

Suddenly, a wave of nausea washed over him. Edward retched, struggling to keep from getting sick. His stomach lurched and his vision began to blur. He needed something, anything, to support himself. He blindly brought his hand down, finding her shoulder for support. The sudden contact caused her shoulder to tense, forcing the boy to yelp and jump back in surprise.

She was alive.

He moved forward again, gently pressing his hand to her shoulder once more. Again, her body tensed upon contact.

"H-Hawkeye!" He could feel tears well up in his golden eyes. The boy waited for a reply. "Hawkeye…?" His grip on her shoulder tightened, causing her to shudder.

Without wasting another moment, the boy gently gathered her in his arms and held her tightly to his body. She was so cold. He could feel his warmth escaping his body and finding refuge in hers. This only caused him to tighten his grip.

They'd done it… They'd found her.

Blinking his tears away, he looked down at Riza, his face twisted with concern. She looked almost corpselike. The only color that existed on her pallid face came from the large, dark circles under her eyes, which were firmly shut. Her lips were parted slightly, allowing her to take rapid, shallow breaths. Her hair, more brown than blonde at this point, clung to the perspiration on her face. The lantern flickering behind them cast shadows on her, highlighting every imperfection. She was too thin, too pale. He needed to get her out of there _now._

He tried to stand, only to find that in the process of breaking the lock, he had somehow severed a connection in his automail leg. He crumpled to the ground, his leg completely useless.

He cringed as Riza audibly gasped and gritted her teeth. The fall had unexpectedly jostled her, no doubt shooting pain throughout her entire body. After apologizing profusely, the boy lifted his head and strained his ears, hoping to hear any other signs of life. When he didn't hear any, he began to panic. He needed someone… anyone…

No… he needed Roy Mustang.

Finding his voice, the boy stuttered, "M-Mustang…" Silence. He tried again, raising his voice, "Please! Is someone there?!" His cries, again, were only met with silence. He gritted his teeth as he felt hot tears stream down his cheeks. "DAMN IT! SOMEONE… MUSTANG! PLEASE… HELP!" His screams echoed throughout the cold, lifeless dungeon, reaching every corner of the structure. "Please… help us…"

* * *

Mustang, Havoc, and Breda had paused at the top of the stairs. Straining to listen, they heard it again; a small, desperate cry for help. Without a second thought, the three men rushed down the stairs, sprinting toward the direction of the cries, racing past the dozens of former prison cells. Upon reaching a concrete wall, they turned to the right and froze in their tracks.

They saw the young, blond-haired boy sitting on the floor, his back to them, cradling something in his arms.

The men slowly advanced forward, unsure of what they would find once they'd reached him.

Hearing the echoes of their footsteps, the young blond turned his head and stammered, "M-Mustang, p-please help!" Red-rimmed, glistening golden eyes watched them, silently pleading for them to come closer.

Roy Mustang stopped and felt his gaze soften. His eyes met those of the young former alchemist's. He realized that he wasn't looking into the eyes of the fearless, confident sixteen-year-old young man that had saved them all. No… He was looking into the wide, quivering, uncertain eyes of the eleven-year-old he had met in Resembool long ago. He felt a lump form in his throat. _Maybe I have forgotten that he's still just a kid…_

After watching Edward for a few moments, Roy tore his eyes away from the boy's and focused on what was in his arms. He felt his heart sink. Roy could recognize that mess of long, dirty blonde hair anywhere.

After a few moments, he willed himself to move forward. Slowly kneeling next to Edward, Roy delicately took his lieutenant from the boy's arms. He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her, her body conforming to his. It felt so natural holding her.

Lips trembling, he managed to stutter, "L-lieutenant?"

No response.

"Riza?" He waited, secretly hoping that she would open her eyes and scowl, scolding him for being informal. When no lecture came, he tried again; this time he said it more forcefully, like an order. _She won't refuse an order…_

Still no response.

Roy began to grow desperate. He gently rocked her back and forth, this time pleading her name over and over like a broken record. After a minute of pleading, he stopped rocking her and grew silent. _Please_, he inwardly begged, _open your eyes_.

Then, as if she had read his mind, Riza slowly opened her eyes. Roy looked into them, feeling his heart pounding frantically in his chest. Her mahogany eyes seemed to pierce straight through him, her stare cold and unrecognizing. His heart skipped a beat.

"Lieutenant?" Roy desperately tried to catch her gaze, only to have her take a deep, weary breath in reply. She closed her eyes as her head lolled into his shoulder, exhaling softly as she did so. He watched her intently, hoping that she would open her eyes again. He tried to push back his feelings of dread. Her stare had unnerved him. It was as if she hadn't really seen him…

He quickly shoved that thought to the back of his head. Right now, they had to finish the task at hand: returning her home. With that rationalization firmly planted in his mind, Roy slowly stood. When the sudden change in position caused Riza to gasp, the General looked down, alarmed. He watched as she gritted her teeth in pain, keeping her eyes clenched shut.

Without his eyes leaving her, Roy shakingly murmured, "Let's go."

Breda and Havoc nodded solemnly and stepped out of the way to allow the general and his lieutenant past them. After he passed them, they turned to follow.

Noticing that the young blonde was not getting up Havoc turned back, causing the other two to stop. "Coming, Chief?"

Roy only heard Edward mumble, but he caught the words "automail" and "broken."

He watched as Havoc rushed forward and scooped up the younger blond.

Together, the five quickly made their way up the stairs and out of the crumbling, old building.

* * *

By that time, darkness had fallen and the desert wind had picked up, making it difficult to see out the front windshield of the desert vehicle. The sudden onset of the desert storm did not seem to dissuade Falman, Havoc, and Fuery as they muttered to each other, trying to make sense of the compass and map laid out in front of them.

Edward turned his attention away from the quietly bickering trio to focus on Lieutenant Breda, Mustang, and Hawkeye. Mustang was sitting cross-legged on the floor of the vehicle, Riza's head cradled in his lap. Breda had pulled out a small first aid kit and was applying pressure to the wound on Riza's left side. He noticed that the lieutenant was careful to not touch her left arm, as doing so, they'd noticed, caused her hiss in pain. The reddened gauze pads made Edward's stomach churn. He had always been fine with the sight of blood, but his memories regarding the wound were accompanied by the smells of rot and decay. The very thought forced him to wrinkle his nose in disgust.

Unable to watch anymore, Edward turned his attention toward Mustang, whom he saw raise his weary, dark eyes and look toward the front of the vehicle. "Have you called ahead," he asked, breaking the silence.

"Yes, sir," Sergeant Fuery replied. "We should be arriving in about five minutes."

Edward saw Mustang drop his shoulders and looked away. "Thank you," he quietly replied back.

After a few minutes of continued silence, Edward saw a light out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head slightly, realizing that they were once again back in the Ishvalan town of Invens, the temporary headquarters of the Amestrian military. He watched as the red-eyed, tan-skinned residents of the small town milled around the vehicle, which had slowed to a crawl.

Hearing an audible, exasperated sigh, Edward turned to face the noise's source. With one of his hands freed, Mustang was impatiently drumming his fingertips on the floor, glaring anxiously outside the vehicle. Edward frowned, watching as anger again clouded the General's eyes. Edward cleared his throat. The sudden sound seemed to snap the superior officer out of it as Edward watched him glance around uneasily before looking back down at Riza.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the vehicle came to a stop in front of the town's small military clinic. They saw the doors fly open as a few nurses rush outside with a gurney. Edward watched from inside vehicle as they urged Mustang, whom had just stepped out, to relinquish his lieutenant into their care. Reluctantly, the superior officer handed her over, his face twisted in distress and slight annoyance.

After the rest of the men had filed out of the vehicle, Edward staggered over to the edge, steadying himself as he tried to jump out. Seeing the young blond's plight, Falman rushed over and gently guided Edward down to the ground. He flashed a quick glance of gratitude toward the older, gray-haired man before he had turned away. After he steadied himself, he realized that the rest of the men were already ahead of him, making their way into the building. He huffed and quickly limped after Mustang, Havoc, Breda, Fuery, and Falman as the men trailed behind the attending nurses. They were stopped, however, when the nurses blocked them from entering the room the gurney, and their lieutenant, disappeared into.

Edward watched as Mustang stood, arms folded, as a remaining nurse tried to explain why he couldn't enter the surgical suite. The animosity radiating off of the superior officer was palpable.

As if on cue, Dr. Marcoh appeared around a corner, quickly tying a smock around his chest and waist. Before making his way into the suite, he stopped and grasped Mustang's shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze.

Mustang turned and looked at the doctor, the irritation in his dark eyes replaced with fear and despair. The two watched each other for a moment, as if conversing telepathically.

Dr. Marcoh squeezed Roy's shoulder again before releasing his grip and allowing his hand to drop to his side. He flashed the Flame Alchemist a faint reassuring smile before disappeared through the doors to the surgical suite.

Edward and the other men collapsed onto the closest benches they could find. He looked up, expecting Mustang to do the same. Instead, he watched as the raven-haired man paced anxiously back and forth in front of them, hands behind his back, lost in a deep trance.

Edward let out a long, tired sigh and leaned back against the wall. All they could do now was wait and hope.

* * *

**Aaaaaand that concludes the second chapter! I hope it didn't seem rushed. I felt like it wasn't, but for some reason there was a nagging feeling in the back of my mind that said it was.**

**Again, thank you for all of the follows, favorites, reviews, and views! Please let me know if there are any ways I can improve the story thus far! And of course, reviews of what you liked are always welcome :)**

**My next chapter is pretty much mapped out. I just need to flesh it out, so it shouldn't be too long for the next update. With the way it is going in my mind, this story will definitely be 25+ chapters long. There's a lot I want to include.**


	3. Homebound

To say Edward Elric was tired would be an understatement. He was downright exhausted, both mentally and physically. Looking up at the clock on the wall, he groaned softly to himself. It was only 11:00p.m. They had arrived at the clinic at 8:00p.m., so only three hours had passed. To Edward, though, that time seemed like an eternity.

He closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose, hoping to rub away his fatigue. _If it's 11:00 right now, then… _He did the math to himself. Fifty-three hours. He hadn't slept in over two days. Edward could almost feel the dark circles developing beneath his eyes.

Leaning back, Edward rested against the wall, allowing his entire body to relax. After a few moments, he finally felt himself beginning to doze off. Before Edward could drift off entirely, however, memories of the day's events flooded his mind.

_Gunshot. Wall. Door. Blood… so much blood. __**My fault**__… Decay. __**My fault.**__ Pale. Thin. __**My fault.**__ Yelling. Screaming! Tears. Mustang. __**Hope…**_

His eyes flew open and he buried his head in his hands. Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees. He definitely would not be getting any sleep tonight. Edward slowly lifted his head, dragging his fingers down his face in the process. Resting his chin on his palms, he sleepily glanced at the man in front of him. Havoc had his knees curled up to his chest, his arms crossed on top of them. He had allowed his head to nod forward, his forehead resting against his arms. A soft snore confirmed that he was, indeed, asleep.

Glancing over to his left, Edward saw that Falman was closest to him; the second Lieutenant's head leaned back against the wall. Next to him was a snoring Lieutenant Breda, whom was leaning against his tall, thin comrade. Nestled up against Breda was Master Sargent Fuery, who had fallen asleep without removing his glasses.

Finally, Edward turned his attention to Roy Mustang, who was seated on the bench to the right of Havoc. His fingers were threaded together, his chin resting on them. His midnight eyes were closed, but Edward knew better than to assume that the General was asleep. Beneath the dark circles and shadows that concealed his face, Edward could make out an expression that he could only describe as sorrow. These days, it seemed, the General had only two emotions: rage and depression. No in-between.

He furrowed his brow, thinking back to Mustang and his reaction when he lifted his lieutenant from Edward's arms. He had never seen the man look so despondent, so disheartened… And yet, despite the stress and pain the older man had endured for the past few months, Edward still hadn't seen him shed a tear, not even at that very moment.

Edward's stomach twisted in knots. He was angry with himself. Whether it was the trauma, sleep deprivation, guilt or a combination of the three, one thing was certain: he had broken down, and in front of Mustang no less. He clenched his hands, now in his lap, into fists. What right did he have? What right did he have to break down and shed tears, while Mustang did his best to keep it together; for himself, for Hawkeye, for his men, and for Edward…

"Hey-o Roy!"

Edward was jolted from his thoughts of self-loathing by the familiar voice. As he turned toward the direction the sound originated from, Edward saw Mustang cringe out of the corner of his eye. He watched as the uniformed newcomer bound over to the General.

The Flame Alchemist slowly opened his eyes and glared up at the man.

The man, unfazed by the glare (or completely oblivious to it), reached out and took Mustang's hand in his, shaking it vigorously. "Haha! Sorry about that, Roy! Didn't realize I had woken you from a deep-"

"Lieutenant Colonel Rodin…" Mustang began sharply, cutting the man off.

"Ah, right, sorry!" The soldier quickly released the General's hand and saluted him, replacing his glowing smile with his best poker face. "Lieutenant Colonel Don Rodin reporting, sir!" He clenched his squared jaw, blue eyes staring forward intently. After holding that pose for a few moments, however, his lips began to quiver. All at once, his face relaxed, and a large, broad smile spread across his lips.

The Flame Alchemist sighed and stood, his hands on his hips. "At ease, Colonel."

Rodin dropped his salute and flashed the General a toothy grin. "I apologize, sir. Still a force of habit! At western command, we are much less formal. We go by first names there." He paused and ran his fingers through his slicked back, short black hair. "I guess I'm still getting used to the formalities at Central," he flashed the General an apologetic look.

Roy thrust his hands into his pockets, trying, and ultimately failing, to hide his annoyance. "It's fine. Just please try to remember the formalities here and at Central, Colonel Rodin."

"Right," the Colonel replied, saluting again. "Anyways, let's talk business." He turned his focus toward the surgical suite they were seated outside of. "How's Riz- uh, Lieutenant Hawkeye?"

Edward watched as Mustang looked downward, murmuring, "I don't know… I haven't heard anything yet."

He saw the colonel flash Mustang a sympathetic look. "I came as soon as I heard about your plan to search Turlorn." Rodin continued, "Why didn't you call me to let me know? I could have come with you."

Roy closed his eyes, hands still shoved into the pockets of his jacket. "I was chasing a rumor." Slowly opening his dark, weary eyes again, he continued, "I figured I wouldn't waste your time."

That was a lie, and Edward knew it. They had meticulously planned the entire operation in about 24 hours. There were plenty of times when Mustang could have picked up the phone and called the colonel. Even though he wouldn't have made it in time by train, Edward figured Mustang would have at least let the man know their plans. After all, he was practically leading the investigation of the Lieutenant's disappearance. And yet, Mustang seemed defiant against the man's best efforts, oftentimes following his own leads before the Lieutenant Colonel's.

At first, Edward didn't see it. But slowly, as the weeks had dragged on and Edward saw more interactions between the two, it became painstakingly obvious: the man reminded Mustang of Brigadier General Hughes… and Mustang despised that. Physically, there was a slight resemblance; the Colonel had short, dark hair, a square jaw, and was about half a head taller than Mustang, much like Hughes. Personality-wise, the two were nearly identical. Both had amicable and cheerful personalities, as well as a deep devotion to their respective families. In fact, Edward had sometimes found himself getting caught in a barrage of stories about his wonderful son and beautiful daughter. It was bad enough having to hear someone gloat about one child, but two?

Still, Edward knew that beneath the man's jovial, playful personality, there was a serious side that was passionate about what he did. He had experienced it first-hand when the Colonel sat him down to discuss the day that Hawkeye had disappeared. Looking back at that day, Edward couldn't believe how quickly the man had changed his demeanor. Almost like the flick of a switch…

Edward was pulled from his thoughts when Rodin clapped his hand on Mustang's shoulder, much to the surprise of the General. His toothy grin had creased into a thin line, turning his carefree expression into a sober one. "Please," he heard Rodin quietly beg, "I was assigned to help you for this sole purpose. I _want _to help you. But you have to give me _something._"

Mustang let out a long-winded sigh. Edward knew that was Mustang's way of giving in, of letting his walls down.

Sensing the General's silent acceptance, the Colonel continued, "So, tell me. What did you find?"

The general drew in a deep breath, and then continued, "Their hideaway was in the old Amestrian command center. My men and I were able to comb the premises in approximately 30 minutes."

The Colonel watched him, waiting for the General to go on. When he didn't, Rodin continued, "Was there anyone else there?"

Edward say Mustang hesitate. After a few moments, the General replied, "We only encountered one other individual. Before we could contain him, however, he shot himself." Edward looked down at his palms, feeling disgusted. _The coward…_

"Did you leave him behind?"

The question surprised both Edward and Mustang, as they both looked up at the man. Of course they left him behind. As far as they were concerned, the unidentified man was a lunatic, a coward, a disgraceful bast-

Colonel groaned and massaged the bridge of his nose. "Sir, this could slow our investigation. Have you seen the storm that picked up outside?"

Edward knew where this conversation was going. He knew that they had made multiple mistakes. One of which was leaving the evidence behind, completely exposed to the elements.

"It will only be a matter of hours before the thing is completely covered," the colonel continued, trying to hide his slight agitation. "Or worse, some desert animals might get to it before we do."

Mustang opened his mouth to respond, but before he could utter a word he was interrupted by the door to the surgical suite opening slowly. The trio watched as Dr. Marcoh emerged, donning a white lab coat instead of the smock he had previously been wearing. After closing the door behind him, the doctor beckoned Mustang forward silently, his face impassive and controlled.

After moving a few steps toward the doctor, Mustang turned and looked over his shoulder. His eyes grazed Edward's, before fixing themselves on someone behind the boy. "Falman," he murmured. Edward heard the man behind him stir. "Please give the Colonel our full report." Without uttering another word, Mustang followed the doctor. Edward watched as they turned a corner and disappeared.

* * *

As he followed behind the doctor, Roy Mustang felt himself becoming numb. His heart thumped loudly in his throat. When he tried to utter a few words of greeting to the doctor, he found he couldn't. Instead, his entire body trembled as he walked, his mind fearing the worst.

Dr. Marcoh motioned toward a room near the end of the hallway directly to Roy's right. Again, Roy obeyed, walking into the room and seating himself in a chair across from an old, worn oak desk. Moments after Roy sat down, Dr. Marcoh followed him in and shut the door behind him. He slowly walked around the old desk and collapsed in the peeling, leather chair positioned behind it.

The two watched each other for, what Roy would describe, an eternity. Finally, he found the courage to speak. His voice, though, only came out as a small whisper as he bowed his head slightly, "Will she be okay?"

After a few moments of silence, Roy looked up at the doctor, studying the older man's face. He seemed to have aged by five years since Roy had seen him last. Dark bags had formed under the man's small, black eyes. The corners of his lips were turned downward in a perpetual frown. Roy stared harder, but found that he could not read the man's face. Frustrated by the lack of response, he leaned back and ran his fingers through his raven-black hair, glaring at Dr. Marcoh. His patience was wearing thin. What wasn't the doctor telling him? After everything they had been through after the Promised Day, the doctor still didn't have the courage to say something to his face?

As if he had read his mind, the doctor sighed and looked into Roy's eyes. "The healing process is going to take some time," he started slowly. "She's awake now, but-"

In one swift movement, Roy leapt up from his chair, knocking it to the floor, and slammed his hands down on the desk. The doctor flinched. "She's awake and you didn't tell me this," Roy growled, his face inches from Marcoh's. "How long," he demanded.

"About an hour-"

"An hour?!" Roy could feel what was left of his composure slipping. "What aren't you telling me?" He was practically yelling now. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the office door crack open. A nurse cautiously poked her head inside, nervously looking at Roy and Marcoh. The doctor raised his hand, dismissing her. After she had fled and he heard the door click shut, Roy continued his verbal assault. "I trusted you with my eyes! The very least you can do is trust me with your information. I am her commanding officer; I have every right to know-" His tirade stopped when Marcoh slammed his hands down on the desk and stood to face the enraged military officer.

"Calm yourself, Mustang," Marcoh snarled, "and let me finish."

After watching the doctor for a few seconds, the raven-haired man begrudgingly picked up his chair and returned to his seat.

The doctor sat back in his chair and continued, "She is awake, _but_ is deeply sedated." He paused, expecting Roy to intervene. When he wasn't interrupted, Dr. Marcoh continued, "I have called ahead to arrange for an earlier train to Central." He raised his hand as Roy opened his mouth to speak, silencing the alchemist. "As you know, there is only so much I can do here with aged equipment and few staff members. The doctors in Central are much better equip to handle advanced procedures."

"What do you mean?" The Flame Alchemist asked, his expression pained.

"Roy," the doctor began, his voice low and comforting, "This is going to be hard, but I'm asking you to please listen to me."

* * *

Edward rolled his eyes and glared. For the past fifteen minutes, the boy had watched Jean Havoc "subtly" observe the pairs of nurses that walked by. _That perv… Is that really what he's thinking about at a time like this?_

He racked his brain, trying to remember if the second Lieutenant was dating anyone. _Oh, that's right! Lieutenant Catalina. _He decided that, when the next pair walked by, he would ask the Lieutenant how his relationship was going. When he heard a pair of footsteps echoing down the hallway, Edward turned his head slightly to see who was approaching. To his disappointment, a pair of men, most likely a doctor and male nurse rounded the corner. However, to his surprise he saw Havoc's eyes follow them just as intently as if they were a pair of women. _What?_

As soon as the pair passed them, Havoc leaned forward, eyeing Lieutenant Breda. "You see that?" he asked.

"Yeah," the heavyset man replied, leaning back against the wall. "That's the seventh pair we've seen in the past fifteen minutes."

"What are you guys talking about?" Fuery piped up, watching the two men curiously.

"Have you noticed anyone walking around solo?" Upon seeing the young black-haired man shake his head, Breda continued. "Apparently a nurse disappeared in the middle of her shift a few days ago. No one's seen her since." They watched as another pair, this time a man and woman, walked past them. "Security's been tight since then. Looks like they're even taking precautions inside the clinic walls."

Edward narrowed his eyes. "She… disappeared? Just like that?"

The second Lieutenant nodded. "Yeah. And I read in the paper that the storeroom was broken into as well. Bunch of IV lines, bags, and medications were taken too."

"Do you think she took them?" Fuery asked.

Breda shrugged. "I dunno. To be honest, I haven't been following it that much. It's a civilian clinic, so the local police force is –" He stopped upon hearing one set of uneven footsteps approaching them.

The four of them watched as General Mustang staggered around the corner, his face as white as a sheet. Edward watched as the three men rose and rushed over to him. The General walked past them, as if oblivious to their existence. After stumbling a few more steps, he paused, reaching out to the wall for support. A few moments passed before he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "We are leaving for Central at exactly 0100 hours. Head back to the dorms, grab your belongings, and meet at the train station at 0030 hours."

Sensing the urgency in their superior's voice, the men chose not to question him. They saluted and murmured a quiet "Yes, sir" in unison. The three men quickly and purposefully filed out of the clinic, leaving only Mustang and Edward behind.

Edward opened his mouth to speak, but discovered that he couldn't find the words. Instead, he sensed that was a mutual understanding hanging in the air: _Don't ask, don't tell. Not now._ So, rather than speaking, Edward strode forward, his automail leg groaning in protest, stopping next to the General. His golden eyes caught fatigued, onyx ones.

Mustang took a deep breath in, and then exhaled, allowing him the opportunity to compose himself. His expression hardened and he turned his gaze forward. "Let's go."

Edward nodded and with that, the two made their way out the doors of the clinic and into the cold desert night.

* * *

**And that concludes Chapter 3! Hope you guys liked it. A few things about the story thus far:**

**1. I am definitely not trying to replace Hughes with Rodin. He is the way he is for a reason (which you shall see.) I'm focusing on the main characters in the story, but in order to do so, I have made a few OCs. All of the OCs introduced, however, will have some sort of importance or impact on the plot.**

**2. I promise not to leave you hanging about Riza's condition any longer. I figured the best way to introduce it would be through Mustang (so next chapter).**

**3. Let me know what you like/don't like so far. Let me know too if there is any OOCness that you catch. I definitely want to write the characters as close to their personalities as possible.**

**4. Let me know if you think I'm moving too fast!**


	4. Separated

Edward was the first to finish packing his belongings and the first to make it down to the dorm's reception area. Dropping his suitcase next to one of the sofas, he fell back into the plush cushions and propped his feet up on a coffee table. The dimmed lights and soft cushions made for ideal sleeping conditions. His eyelids suddenly felt heavy. Maybe he could take a quick ten minute nap. The men would wake him once they finished packing… Crossing his arms behind his head, he closed his eyes and scooted further down into the sofa's cushions. _Just… five minutes…_

"Major Elric?"

Startled, Edward's eyes flew open, his hand clutching his chest. His thoughts immediately turned to the time. What time was it? He frantically shook his head back and forth until he found the clock on the wall. 11:54p.m. Still plenty of time…

Blinking away the drowsiness, he glared up at the one that disrupted him. The man nervously saluted before continuing, "Sir, I have a message for you from a Miss Winry Rockbell. She requests that you call her at your earliest convenience."

_Crap. _With the day's events, he had completely forgotten to call the Rockbell residence. Edward had made an effort to try and call every day, even if it was only for a few minutes. It was comforting hearing from them, especially Alphonse, whom was recovering very quickly. Just last week, Al told him that he was able to slowly get around without his cane.

Edward thanked the man and sat upright. He gingerly guided his automail leg to the floor then stood, bearing most of his weight on his right leg. Limping over to the nearest phone, Edward slowly punched the Rockbell residence's phone number into the keypad. It rang once before he heard a soft _click_, signaling that the receiver had been picked up.

"_Hello?"_ Upon hearing Winry's voice, he felt his heart flutter and his cheeks redden. Normally it was Al who answered the phone. He must be sleeping… Suddenly, his throat felt dry. Any words he had in reply to her simple 'hello' had vanished from his mind. Did he… actually miss Winry?

"_Hello?" _He could hear the worry in her voice. _"Ed…?"_

Edward gulped, finding just enough saliva to saturate his dry throat. "Yeah. Who else would it be, Gearhead?"

When no retort came, he found that _he_ was the one that was concerned. "Winry? Hello?"

Suddenly, her voice exploded in his ear. Yelping in surprise, he held the receiver at arm's length. Even with the phone so far from his ear, he could still make out everything she was shouting. _"Edward Elric! Do you know how worried we've been?! First, you tell us that you're heading off into the desert. Then, when I call because we haven't heard from you, they tell me that you were at the hospital!"_ He slowly brought the receiver back to his ear, sensing the end of her tirade. His suspicion was confirmed when she quietly asked, _"Are you okay?"_

He tried to calm his rapidly beating heart. She was that concerned about him? He felt awful making them worry like that. "Yeah…" He finally responded. "My automail's a bit beaten up, but I'm okay…" Edward waited, wondering if she would berate him for using the words 'automail' and 'beaten up' in the same sentence.

Instead, she disregarded his comment entirely. _"Does that mean…_ _Did you…?"_

He knew what her question was without having to finish it. She asked every time they finished with their 'hello's' and 'how are you's'. And every time, he would reply with the same small, defeated 'no'. This time, however, his answer would be different. This time, he wouldn't have to hear her quiet, disappointed 'oh, okay'.

"Yeah," he murmured softly.

It seemed to take her a moment to process the information, mostly, he guessed, because she was expecting the same answer he always gave her. When she spoke, her voice came out in a hushed tone, _"Is she… Will she…?"_ He could hear her struggling to find the right word. _Dead? Alive? Okay? Hurt? _

Instead of letting her finish the question, he answered, "I don't know. We're getting on a train in about an hour to head to Central's military hospital." Before he could tell her more, he saw Breda and Havoc emerge from the stairwell. When their eyes met his, he slowly nodded; he was ready to go.

"Hey Winry?"

"_Yeah?"_

"I have to go. But I promise to call when I get to Central, okay?"

He didn't hear what she said in reply; the two second Lieutenants were quietly motioning for him to hurry up out of the corner of his eye. "I'll talk to you later, Winry. Love you. Bye." He hung up the receiver and turned to find two sets of eyes watching him curiously.

"What?" he shot them a dirty look.

"Who were you just talking to?" Havoc leaned forward with his hands on his hips and smirked.

"Winry…" Edward began. "Why?"

"Oh nothing," the taller blond replied, still grinning. Turning to Lieutenant Breda, Havoc held out his hand and said, "Pay up."

Muttering under his breath, the other Lieutenant dug his hand into his pocket, pulling out a 1000 cenz note. Edward watched as the heavyset man begrudgingly slapped it into his comrade's outstretched hand..

Rolling his eyes, Edward turned away from the pair. _What are they- _Suddenly, the end of his conversation with Winry replayed in his mind. _"I'll talk to you later, Winry. Love you. Bye… Love you. Bye. __**Love. You.**__"_ In an instant, it felt like the room's temperature increased by one thousand degrees. His face was burning; he could feel sweat drops forming on his brow.

He twirled around and pointed an accusatory finger at the two men. "W-what were you betting on?" The men only stared back, eyebrows raised and grins on their faces. "I-it's not like that." They weren't buying it. "You heard that out of context!" Still not buying it. "It slipped! I-I don't! She-I-We-" He stopped when saw the two men look beyond him and salute, their expressions serious.

"Are you done, Fullmetal?"

Edward whirled around and found himself face-to-face with an extremely irked General Mustang. Face still burning red, the boy slowly nodded and meekly replied, "Yeah."

The Flame Alchemist narrowed his onyx eyes at the boy, before turning away. When he had made his way to the door, he turned his head slightly and said, "Let's go." The two men muttered a quick reply before following after their superior, their bags in hand.

Edward, face still burning and heart still pounding in his chest, quickly moved over to the sofa and threw his bag over his shoulder. As he made his way out the door, Sargent Fuery, balancing an overexcited Black Hayate and duffel bag in his arms, fell in step beside the limping boy. Edward reached over and grabbed the duffel bag by its straps, throwing it over his shoulder along with his bag. The Sargent flashed him an appreciative smile. The two then quickened their pace, catching up with the three men in front of them. Together, the group hastily made their way toward the train station.

* * *

Roy Mustang sat silently as he watched a multitude of dark shapes rush past the train windows. Though it was nearly pitch black outside the train car, he had noticed the sandy terrain slowly give way to a lusher, green landscape. He knew that with every tree, hill, and house the train passed, they were getting incrementally closer to their destination.

He pulled himself out of his trance to look toward the back of the train car. Roy could see Jean Havoc and Heymans Breda sitting across from each other, hunched over a deck of cards. Kain Fuery was seated next to Havoc, absentmindedly petting a sleeping Black Hayate. Seated a few rows up was Edward Elric, his chin resting on his elbow, which was propped on the windowsill. His mind, much like Mustang's, was somewhere else entirely. The only person missing was Vato Falman, who had agreed to remain behind in order to assist Lieutenant Colonel Rodin in his investigation of Turlorn. They planned on setting out around 9:00a.m., around the time the train was expected to arrive in Central.

He knew that as soon as they arrive in Central, Riza would be whisked away and they would be separated again. For the moment, however, he took comfort knowing that he was as close to her as physically possible. The two cars directly behind him had been specifically set up to transport four other ill or injured patients in addition to Riza. Based on Dr. Marcoh's description of the setup, her bed was directly behind the wall he was seated in front of.

Roy desperately wanted to be there next to her, holding her hand, telling her that everything would be okay. Deep in his heart, however, he knew that things wouldn't be okay. When, not _if_, she pulled through, her life would be different. But he vowed to himself that he would be there every step of the way.

He closed his eyes and leaned against the window, allowing himself to sway along with the train. Relaxing his entire being, Roy let his mind wander back to his conversation with Dr. Marcoh.

* * *

"_Roy… This is going to be hard, but I'm asking you to please listen to me." _

_He swallowed hard and braced himself. He was as ready as he would ever be._

_Seeing the General's silent resolve, Dr. Marcoh continued, "I'm going to be honest with you, General Mustang; her condition is deplorable. Three broken ribs, signs of mild head trauma, severe malnourishment, a deep puncture wound to her left side, and a massive infection in her left forearm." The doctor paused and looked into Roy's eyes, making sure that the raven-haired man was processing everything._

_Roy could only look helplessly back at the older man as he waited for him to continue._

"_My biggest concern right now is the infection. When I was examining her, I found small puncture wounds running up her right forearm and a piece of cloth wrapped tightly around her arm, just above her left elbow. It looks as if someone beat us to the infection by trying to curb it, most likely with intravenous antibiotics and a makeshift tourniquet. That being said, while those efforts helped to slow its progression, they certainly did not stop it." Dr. Marcoh paused._

"_What…what is our next step?" Roy asked, breaking the silence; his eyes begging, __**pleading**__ for an answer._

"_I've started her on a course of our strongest antibiotics and fever reducers, but even with those I-I," his voice broke and he looked down at his hands, which were neatly folded on the desk in front of him. "I… can't save her forearm."_

_The news hit Roy like a locomotive, knocking the wind completely out of him. He stared forward and down, no longer able to register what the doctor was saying. A lump formed in his throat, cutting off his airway. He clutched his chest, choking on his breath. He couldn't breathe… he couldn't breathe!_

_Feeling a hand on his shoulder, the Flame Alchemist turned. Through his tunnel vision, he could see Dr. Marcoh crouched down next to him, concern painted across his face. He was trying to speak to him, but all Roy could hear was a loud ringing in his ears. He began to violently cough, allowing precious air to fill his lungs. As his vision began to clear, the ringing slowly subsided and he could hear Marcoh calling out his name. Still clutching his chest, he whimpered, "Y-your alchemy-"_

"_You know just as well as I do, Mustang; even with how advanced medical alchemy is becoming, we cannot revive dead tissue."_

_Roy grabbed the lapels of Marcoh's lab jacket, pulling the doctor closer. Wide, anguished eyes stared into the doctor's. "Please…" he quietly begged, "let me see her."_

_Dr. Marcoh gently took Mustang's hands and slowly peeled them off his jacket, his eyes never leaving the General's. With Mustang's hands still wrapped in his own, he quietly said, "I cannot allow that. She's in a very fragile state right now. I need as much time as I can to prepare her and our other patients for travel." With that, he released Mustang's hands and stood. Standing at the door with one hand on the doorknob, Dr. Marcoh murmured, "Please take a moment, General. I will meet you at the station in about an hour." And just like that, he was gone, leaving a shocked and devastated Mustang in his wake. _

* * *

Roy slowly opened his eyes, only to be blinded by a bright light. He shut his eyes tightly, and then slowly reopened them, allowing them to readjust themselves. The sun was peeking out from behind the lush, green hills that darted past the window as if it was greeting him. Roy rubbed his aching eyes and glanced down at his watch. It was 8:45a.m. They would be arriving in Central soon.

He suddenly felt nauseous. Soon they would be separated and he would be left again, waiting, wondering, worrying… He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The constant sway of the train wasn't helping. He needed to think about something else. Something to numb his aching heart.

Roy slowly opened his eyes and looked toward the back of the train. Breda, Havoc, and Fuery had disbanded and found separate benches to sleep on. He felt a small smile creep across his lips, a rarity in recent times. He was grateful having them there. Their presence helped to put him at ease.

After watching them for a few moments, he turned his attention to his young subordinate. He found Edward in the same position in the same spot, his eyes still fixed on the ever-changing landscape outside the train car. Roy frowned. Had he been awake this entire time? From the looks of it, he had: Roy silently noted the dark circles that had formed under the boy's tired golden eyes.

He felt something tug at his heartstrings. Thinking back, he couldn't remember ever telling the boy that he truly did appreciate him being there. In fact, he could hardly remember even carrying on a long conversation with him within the past few months. In the chaos that unfolded shortly after Edward arrived in Ishval, Roy hadn't stopped to think about what the boy had sacrificed for him.

Edward postponed his comfortable, deserved life in Resembool with his brother in order to help him. Every order, command, or request that had been given to him had been fulfilled without question or complaint. The boy was overworked; Roy could see that now. He even noticed that Edward had been carrying himself differently. His usual broad shouldered, chin-held-high strut he paraded around with was replaced with a cautious, unassuming slouch. It was as if the boy was carrying an immense weight on his shoulders. Then there were Edward's eyes… Beneath the bags and exhaustion, Roy could see a mixture of complex emotions every time the boy looked at him. But when Roy would return that look, he would feel something deep within him festering, desperately trying to rear its ugly head…

Feeling a light pressure on his shoulder, Roy gasped in surprise and looked up to see Havoc, Breda, Fuery and Edward standing in a semi-circle in front of him. It took him a moment to realize that the train had stopped and that they had arrived at Central Station.

When he stood, Dr. Marcoh emerged from behind the group. "General, please follow me."

Roy nodded and began to follow. As he passed them, he looked each subordinate in the eye. When he got to Edward, he held the boy's gaze for a moment longer. Determined, weary eyes returned his look.

Following Marcoh out of the train car and into the bustling station, Roy cast one last glance over his shoulder. His eyes widened in awe when he saw the three men and Edward lined up outside the train car, their right hands raised in a silent salute.

* * *

Dr. Marcoh wordlessly led the General to a waiting ambulance and opened the back door, inviting him inside.

Roy climbed inside and stopped when he saw her.

Riza was lying on a stretcher in the middle of the vehicle, surrounded by nurses and beeping machines. Upon seeing the man enter, the nurses quickly moved away from her, taking any equipment they had with them.

He slowly advanced forward, stopping once he had made it to her side. Roy looked down at her, drinking in her features. She looked like she was simply sleeping. So peaceful…

Some of the color had returned to her thinned cheeks, but otherwise, she looked nearly the same as when they'd first found her. Small. Weak. Fragile. But to him… she was still the most beautiful woman in the world.

Kneeling down next to her, he took her right hand in both of his. Her hand tensed in response, but quickly relaxed when he wrapped his fingers around it. "Riza…" He could feel a tightness forming in his chest. No… He had to be strong. She had been strong for him for far too long. This time, it was his turn to be strong for her. He had to be.

Moving her hand toward himself, he gingerly pressed it to his chest, right above his heart. "I promise… I swear… that I will be right here for you. I-" His voice cracked. "I…"

"General." He felt a hand on his shoulder. Without peeling his eyes away from her, he heard Dr. Marcoh murmur, "We're here."

He hadn't even felt the vehicle move.

He wasn't ready. Not yet…

One of the nurses lightly took her hand from his and laid it across her abdomen. He watched helplessly as they lifted her out of the vehicle. When they made their way into the hospital he trailed behind them, deciding that he would follow them until he no longer could. Anything to ensure that he would be as close to her as possible.

Sure enough, once they reached a set of doors that read "Employees Only," the nurses politely informed him that he could no longer accompany them. As they disappeared through the swinging doors, he caught one last glimpse of blonde hair. And then, she was gone.

And he was left alone. Terrified. Separated.

* * *

**That concludes Chapter 4! I even threw in a bit of EdWin fluff for you guys (don't worry, Ed's slip up will be addressed later). I almost wrote a part where Winry stowed away on the train so she could fix Ed's leg (having jumped on when the train slowed as it passed through Resembool), but decided against it because: 1. It makes sense for her to show up later, and 2. I don't think she would have packed and made it to the station in time (in my mind, the military is stationed very close to the western border of the Ishvalan territory, pretty geographically close to Resembool; maybe a little over an hour away).**

**(Now… science!) So what exactly is the infection in Riza's arm? With an injury like that, it is most likely a bacterial infection (probably from the **_**Clostridium, Bacillus, **_**or **_**Staphylococcus**_** genuses)****that developed in the dead or dying tissue. Also known as "wet gangrene," it is a life-threatening medical condition that, unlike "dry gangrene," can cause sepsis and spread very quickly if left untreated. Take care if you decide to Google Image it. (On another related note, have you figured out what my undergrad major was?)**

**I want to take a moment to thank everyone that has reviewed, favored, or followed this story. I really do appreciate it! And as always, I love feedback on what you like/didn't like, or what you think I could improve on or change.**


	5. Lilies

Two things remained constant in that hospital waiting area as the day dragged on: Roy Mustang and Edward Elric. The youth and the rest of Mustang's team had arrived shortly after Roy did, but while the men left his side occasionally to make take a quick smoke break, grab food, or attend to Black Hayate, Roy noticed that Edward had only left once, for a span of about three minutes. When asked by Havoc where the boy went, he simply replied that he had called Alphonse, leaving the conversation at that. Roy was tempted for a moment to ask the former alchemist how his brother was, but thought better of it; neither he nor Edward were in the mood for light conversation.

His men had known him long enough to know that sometimes the best way to comfort him was to simply be there without having to speak: and that was enough. After Hughes had died, Roy remembered, the men had offered their support by remaining close and asking him questions only when necessary. Today was no different.

Roy only spoke a handful of times; once to decline a sandwich offered by Breda and a few additional times when Dr. Marcoh would come out and speak to him. The first time Mustang saw the doctor, he was surprised that he was not scrubbed in for surgery. Dr. Marcoh had quickly reassured him, telling him that he was out of practice when it came to surgery, but that Riza was in the "more than capable hands" of a Dr. Matthew Tennant.

Roy decided that _he_ would be the judge of that.

* * *

Around 5:30, Roy was approached by a nurse that informed him he had a phone call waiting for him. Reluctantly, the General got up and followed her. She led him to a nearby set of phones in a private corner outside of the waiting room and gestured to the nearest line.

Roy slowly picked up the receiver and held it to his ear. "Hello?" His voice came out as a hoarse whisper.

"_Hey-o Roy_!" _That voice…_

Roy groaned internally. "Lieutenant Colonel Rodin-"

"_Ah! Shoot! Right; I'm sorry_," the Colonel apologized. "_Lieutenant Colonel Rodin calling to request an update on First Lieutenant Hawkeye_."

"I'd like an update myself," the General replied passively. It had been a few hours since he last spoke with Marcoh. "But, last I heard, things were going well."

Realizing that the General was not going to elaborate further at that moment, the Colonel quickly changed the subject. "_Lieutenant Falman and I just returned from Turlorn. We gathered some evidence, but, well, we found another body_…"

Roy's heart sank. "Did you identify it?" he asked quietly.

"_Yeah_," the Colonel answered despondently. "_Young woman, mid-thirties, short, brown hair. Her name was Marie Turner_."

"How did you-"

The Colonel let out a disheartened sigh. "_She's that nurse that went missing a few days ago. Her name badge was still on her._"

"How did she-"

Again, the Colonel answered, knowing what the question would be. "_Single gunshot wound to the head. Point-blank_." He paused for a moment, as if composing himself. "_Also, she had the word 'weak' etched into her forehead_."

Roy's stomach dropped. They had seen something similar just a few weeks earlier: a young man, just a few years older than Edward, was found with his throat slit and the word 'soft' carved into his head. "What… what do these monsters want," he finally asked, his voice filled with defeat.

"_I don't know, Roy… I just don't know_."

He felt sick to his stomach. He didn't want to talk anymore. All Roy wanted to do was wake up from this nightmare and go back to the way things were; where his Lieutenant would scold him for neglecting his paperwork and where he and Fullmetal would bicker about pointless things. Roy wanted all of that back. Not this harsh, twisted reality.

"_We're going back tomorrow_," he heard Rodin say after the silence became unbearable. "_A nasty sandstorm picked up so we quit early. We'll be back there first thing tomorrow._"

"Okay," Roy replied slowly. "Before you go, Colonel Rodin, about that man we left…"

Rodin sighed, "_The sand must have covered him before we got there, but we'll keep looking tomorrow._"

"Alright," Roy said. "And Colonel."

"_Yeah?_"

"I'm sorry."

Roy could hear a faint smile in Rodin's voice. "_Don't worry about it, General. I understand what you're going through. Just please, keep positive. We'll work through this together."_

"Yeah. Thanks; I appreciate it." And Roy meant it too. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"_Goodbye, sir_." Roy heard a small click, signaling that the call had ended. He pulled it away from his ear and looked down at it for a moment. Sucking in a deep breath, he hung up the receiver and made his way back to the waiting area.

However, instead of finding his men and Edward, he saw Dr. Marcoh, whom had seated himself in the chair Roy had occupied minutes before. Upon seeing the Flame Alchemist, the doctor looked up and flashed him a small, sincere smile.

Noticing the General's confusion, the doctor gently said, "I sent them home to get some rest." With that he stood and walked over to Roy, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I think you should go too. You're exhausted, General."

Roy slowly shook his head and flashed him a fake smile. "I appreciate your concern, Dr. Marcoh, but I'm fine. I'll be just fine waiting here." He moved to sit down, only to have Dr. Marcoh block his path.

"Please," the doctor quietly pleaded. "I'm asking you, not as a doctor, but as a friend. You need your rest, and a hospital is not the best place to get it. You need your rest, even if it is for a few hours."

Roy frowned, examining the concerned doctor's face, looking for any signs that he would back down. He could feel his front crumbling. Roy knew in his heart that staying would only make him even more anxious. But the thought of leaving his Lieutenant was difficult to stomach. He didn't want to go.

As if he saw Roy's internal struggle, the doctor gave Roy's shoulder a small squeeze. "You still have that apartment here in Central, correct? It's about a ten minute walk from here?" _Five if I hurry._ When the General slowly nodded, he continued, "I will call you when Dr. Tennant is done. It shouldn't be more than a couple of hours now. From what he has said, everything is going well."

"All right," Roy finally sighed, feeling defeated. He would go home, but he doubted it would be restful.

With a relieved sigh, the doctor loosened his grip on the General's shoulder, letting his arm fall to his side. "I have one more thing I'd like to mention before you go."

Roy shot him a quizzical look.

"If I remember correctly, doesn't your Lieutenant love lilies?"

* * *

As Roy Mustang reluctantly trudged out of the hospital, he took a mental inventory of his subordinates and their whereabouts in case they were needed. Havoc and Breda both still had apartments in the southern and western parts of Central, respectively. Kain Fuery had initially been displaced after the dorms, and a portion of Central command, had been obliterated on the Promised Day. Since they were still working on reconstructing the structures, the Sargent had stayed with a cousin every time they were in Central. No doubt, he thought, that Fuery would be there. So that only left Fullmetal…

As if by chance, as the General rounded the corner of the hospital, he saw a bundle of brown and blond on a nearby bench. When he got closer, he identified the bundle as no one other than Edward Elric, who had wrapped himself in his brown trench. Roy watched as the boy methodically breathed in and out; he was definitely asleep. He debated whether he should wake the youth. Edward's face was completely relaxed, allowing his young age to shine through. _This is probably the first time he's getting decent sleep… on a park bench, no less._ Roy knew, however, that the days were getting shorter, and the nights were getting colder.

Roy reached out and gently prodded the boy's shoulder. Edward stirred, but refused to open his eyes. Roy tried again; this time, poking him more forcefully.

This time, Edward groaned and rolled over, wearily opening his eyes. When he saw who had stirred him, his eyes shot open and he bolted upright. Reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck, the boy murmured, "So, they kicked you out too, huh?"

"Yeah," the Flame Alchemist replied. "Told me I should go home and rest for a while."

"Yeah, me too." Edward stood up slowly and stretched, shifting all of his weight onto his right leg. "I figured I would hang around out here for a while, and then sneak back in and hangout in the cafeteria."

Roy furrowed his brow, "Don't you think you should be getting some decent rest, in say, a bed?"

The boy stopped stretching and shrugged, "I guess, but hotels around here are too damn expensive. And, well, you know, the dorms are gone." Seeing the General's, surprisingly, concerned face, Edward continued, "It's not really a big deal. When Al and I traveled around, I always slept in odd places. It's nothing new. I'll be fine."

Roy wasn't convinced. Still, he managed to surprise himself, and Fullmetal, when he groaned and said, "No, that won't do. Come on." He turned and began walking away from the hospital, leaving a confused Edward in his wake. After walking a few more paces, he turned and shot the boy an annoyed look. "Are you coming?"

Edward briskly walked forward, automail creaking, falling into step beside the General. Shooting him a cautious look, he asked, "Where are we going?"

"To my place," the General answered. "I have a couch you can use. You should at least get one decent night's sleep."

Out of the corner of his eye, Roy saw the boy watching him. After a few prolonged moments of silence, Edward murmured, "Thank you."

"Good. Now, before we go, I have to make one quick stop."

* * *

Edward stood back a few feet as he watched Mustang unlock and open the door to his apartment. Once it was unlocked and Mustang had turned the lights on, Edward slowly followed him in, eyes scanning the room he had stepped into. It was small and bare, with only a black suede couch and coffee table, covered with a fine layer of dust, in the middle of the room. To his left, he noticed a small, galley-style kitchenette, and to his right was a hallway, most likely leading to his bedroom.

Seeing the boy's reluctance, Mustang gestured to the couch and said, "Make yourself comfortable," as he set a vase filled with lilies on the coffee table, then disappeared down the hallway. Edward fell back into the seat, his automail leg groaning, and continued to take in his new surroundings. Across the room and near the door was a bookcase filled with a variety of old, worn hardcovered books. On one of the shelves, instead of books, were five small picture frames. Edward squinted, but couldn't make out the people in the pictures. But at this point, he wasn't comfortable to get up and look for himself. Instead, he sat back, feeling a wave of exhaustion roll over him. The couch was so comfortable; he couldn't help but allow his drooping eyelids to relax.

A few moments later, however, his quick rest was interrupted by something forcefully striking the side of his face, knocking him over. In a dazed and confused panic, the boy struggled upright and pushed the assailants off of him, only to discover that they were simply a pillow and blanket. Blinking, he looked up at the General, whom was standing at the mouth of the hallway with his arms folded; a, now rare, smirk on his face. Edward glared, but that didn't wipe the smirk off of the General's face; in fact, it only seemed to broaden it.

"Thanks," Edward mumbled as he placed his head on the pillow and wrapped the blanket around himself, pulling it up to his chin, "Bastard."

Edward didn't see it, but after the General turned away and headed toward his room, his smirk turned into a small smile.

* * *

Riza could feel the immense pressure on her chest slowly decrease. Even though the darkness surrounding her had not lifted, in an odd way, it too felt lighter.

She was slowly becoming aware of her surroundings. She couldn't see or hear them, but she could feel them. Two… no three, sets of feet were milling around near her.

Riza frowned internally. In her current state, she could maybe, _maybe_ overtake one person if she used the element of surprise… but three?

She was terrified. Her heart began to race at the thought of a new chapter in this seemingly endless nightmare. If they had left her alone for just a few more minutes, then she wouldn't be dealing with his constant, agonizing pain.

She hated that she had settled on that fact: of dying to escape. But still, in her eyes, it was better than the continued hell she would endure, that she _will_ endure, once she fully wakes up. They had moved her, and she had no sense of where she was anymore. For all she knew, she could be further out into the middle of the unforgiving desert.

Suddenly, the General's words came back to her, echoing in the back of her mind: _Don't you dare give up on living. _

Riza felt a sense of warmth in her heart upon hearing his voice, even if it was in her head. It was the same warmth she had when someone had taken her hand between their own. She hadn't known their intentions, or known if it wasn't something fabricated by her mind; all she felt at that moment, for just a split second, was a feeling of security and hope.

And that hope, she decided, would drive her resolve.

By this point, she felt lighter. She, very slowly, flexed her toes and twitched the fingers on her right hand. She tried her left. Nothing. _Still useless…_

She knew she only had one shot at this. If she died, then at least she died trying.

The weight on her chest had lifted. She took a deep, ragged breath. Clinging to that small bit of hope, she decided on her resolve: Fight.

* * *

_Roy inhaled deeply, breathing in the earthy scents that surrounded him. Exhaling slowly, he opened his eyes and peered up at the cloudless blue sky above him. He didn't want to get up, but something at the back of his mind nagged him to._

_With a soft groan, he sat up and stretched, reaching up and over his head as he did so. After he was confident he had gotten rid of the kink in his back, he rested his palms on the grass behind him and leaned back into his arms. For miles and miles all he saw was rolling green hills. A light breeze rushed past him and moved quickly over the hilly terrain, pushing the blades of grass like waves._

_He felt at peace there. When he was there sitting on the sloping, endless terrain, nothing could ever go wrong. He closed his eyes again and leaned his head back, feeling the warmth of the sun on his face._

"_Mr. Mustang?"_

_His eyes snapped open and he turned to look over his shoulder, hoping to locate the origin of the voice that disturbed his peace. When he saw who had spoken to him, he felt his eyes soften._

_A young girl with short blonde hair and large brown eyes, no older than thirteen, stared back. When their eyes met, she frowned. "So you joined the military," she said flatly, narrowing her brown eyes. "You know how my father feels about them. He won't teach you flame alchemy if he finds out."_

"_Even if I use it to protect those I care about? You know I can use it to protect this country and-" _

_She shook her head. "How can you expect to defend Amestris if you couldn't even protect me?"_

_His heart sank. "What…?"_

"_You heard me," she said harshly. _

_As he opened his mouth to respond, the ground beneath him began to tremble. The light breeze that had been constantly washing over him suddenly became violent, whipping at his back. He turned toward the lashing wind, raising his arm up to protect his face and eyes. The sky had darkened as large, black clouds closed in._

_He whipped back around to face the young girl, "You need to go! It's-"_

_She was gone. Vanished._

_Suddenly, the ground beneath him opened up… and he was falling. Endlessly falling into a dark abyss. His yells were drowned out by a loud ringing. Ringing… _

Roy's eyes flew open and he shot up. It took him a moment to process what the sound was. On the third ring, he realized that it was the phone. Panicked, he hurled himself out of bed and toward his bedroom door.

* * *

Edward heard the ringing too. He lazily opened his eyes and looked around, his eyes trying desperately trying to adjust to the dark. He sat up and tried to locate the source of the noise. By the fourth ring, however, Mustang, still dressed in his wrinkled military uniform, had already burst out of his room and picked it up, pressing it to his ear.

He heard him mutter a few replies, "yes's", and "okay's" before quickly saying "I'll be there in five." With that, Mustang dropped the receiver and hurriedly made his way to the door, throwing his coat on over his shoulders.

As quickly as he had emerged from his bedroom, he was out the door and gone, leaving a confused and anxious Edward behind.

* * *

**So that concludes Chapter 5, Lilies. Hope you guys liked it! **

**I was going to add the scene where Mustang gets to the hospital, but I didn't realize that the chapter had already gotten to be about 3,000 words long! It and the following scene are a lot longer, so I decided to separate the chapter. The next part isn't written out yet, but I have it plotted out in my head. My goal is to have it done by tomorrow night if all goes well. This next chapter will have more Royai :3**

**Again, hope you guys are enjoying it and feel free to review with what you like or don't like. I love positive feedback and constructive criticism; it helps let me know what I'm doing right or wrong.**

**Finally, on an unrelated note, as many of you know, Robin Williams has passed away. I've been struggling with that these past few days; I don't think the death of a celebrity has impacted me this greatly in my life. From what I could see, he was an amazing man, both inside and out. With that, a small "in memoriam": "O Captain, my captain!" **

**Rest in peace, Mr. Williams.**


	6. Toy Dog

_It's gone_.

Riza propelled herself backwards as quickly as she could, until she found herself trapped in a corner.

_Gone._

She clutched her left shoulder, and then rapidly slid her hand down until she felt nothing but air. No elbow, no forearm. Just bandages, then nothingness.

_Gone. _

There were more of them. Six… maybe seven? Eight? She couldn't tell. They were running, dodging, jumping as she feebly kicked her legs out, occasionally making contact with a set of legs or a face.

_Gone._

She couldn't fight anymore. Her energy was waning. She had overestimated herself and underestimated them. They had debilitated her, and now she was trapped. How could she fight when they had taken her arm...

One of her assailants separated himself from the group and rushed at her, his footsteps pounding on the floor.

She decided that she had one chance. One last chance to fight back; even if it meant losing the battle. She kicked forcibly, and to her surprise, then horror, she connected, tangling her feet in his legs. She felt him tumble and fall. But he was unrelenting. Instead of backing down, he lunged, seizing her in his iron grip. She struggled, desperately clawing at him and beating him. Too strong. He was too strong and she was too weak.

Riza's energy was gone. Her muscles and body had betrayed her. She felt lightheaded and dizzy. The darkness was beginning to take over again.

They had won. And she had lost.

* * *

Roy Mustang made it to the hospital in record time. Four minutes after he had talked to a very distressed nurse, he was through the doors, making his way desperately down the main hallway. When one of the nurses saw him, she flagged him down and ushered him down a second hallway, her mouth going at a mile a minute. He honestly didn't know what she, or the nurse that called him, had said. The only words he was concerned about were: _Hospital. Need you here. Now._

When they turned down a third hallway, Roy could see Dr. Marcoh at the end. When he got within earshot, Roy could hear the doctor sharply giving orders to the small group of nurses that had surrounded him. By the time he had reached Marcoh, the doctor had turned his full attention to the Flame Alchemist. The doctor tried to speak to Roy, but he ignored him and rushed for the doors they were in front of. Marcoh desperately tried to hold him back from the set of doors, but the doctor's efforts proved fruitless.

His Lieutenant needed him _now._

Roy threw the doors open and stormed in, only to stop a few steps into the room, eyes widening with the horror he saw.

The scene before him looked like the site of a massacre. Bloodied handprints and saline solution covered the wall and floor, painting it a dull red. The trail of blood and fluids ran through a small group of panicked nurses and stopped at a figure cowering in the corner, her left side covered in blood.

He knew. He knew who it was.

Roy quickly stepped forward, only to have his arm caught by Dr. Marcoh. "Mustang, wait!" The doctor cried. "We don't exactly know what this-"

Roy jerked his arm away and began to walk forward. "Lieutenant…"

She didn't respond. She didn't even _look_ toward him.

"Lieutenant!" This time, he cried it out, more forcefully.

Still no acknowledgement.

He was within an arm's reach now. "Riza!"

This time she turned, terrified, widened eyes locking on, then looking through him. To his dismay, she kicked her legs out, tangling them in between his. He stumbled forward, catching himself on his hands and knees. Roy looked up in time to see her face. Her eyes were filled with pure, unadulterated fear.

He found himself diving forward, and wrapping his arms around her, pulling her close to himself. He didn't know why he did it; he had simply reacted. Apparently, she didn't know why he did it either.

She began to panic, alternating between blindly tearing at him and hitting him with her right hand.

"Riza," he choked out desperately. "Riza, please, listen to me!"

His pleas fell on deaf ears.

He pleaded her name over and over, tightening his grip as he begged.

Finally, her assault ended. She feebly tapped her fist against his shoulder one last time, her head bowing forward and resting against it. He felt her body relax as she went limp in his arms, every ounce of her energy gone.

Instantly, Dr. Marcoh and a few additional nurses were at their side, quickly pulling her away from a fatigued and shocked Mustang.

He turned his head slightly; seemingly unable to process everything that was happening. Roy could only watch passively as they began reconnecting her IV line, inserting a variety of needles with syringes full of unidentifiable medicines into the new saline-filled bag they had connected to the line.

And for probably the fifth time that day, Roy Mustang felt completely, utterly useless.

* * *

"What the hell happened?" asked Mustang darkly as he looked up from his hands, which were folded neatly in his lap. He glared at the man who was sitting at the desk before him.

Dr. Marcoh wearily rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger and sighed. "That's what I'm trying to piece together, General. From what my nurses are telling me, she was unprovoked-"

"Why didn't you call me," Roy retorted sharply, "when you were planning on waking her up?"

"I already explained to you, General; It was a fluke. One of the nurses misheard my directions, and instead began recovery too quickly."

"Then explain to me why she didn't respond to me. Dr. Marcoh, you know my Lieutenant; she never ignores an order!"

Dr. Marcoh let out a drawn out, exhausted sigh, "That's what I've been racking my brains on for the past couple of minutes, General. When she was still sedated, I performed a quick physical evaluation. Eardrums were intact, and pupils dilated and constricted with the appropriate amount of light stimulation." Ignoring the General's continuous glare, he proceeded cautiously, "I have seen something like this before, when I was stationed in Ishval years ago."

The General's gaze softened slightly at the mention of Ishval.

"I've seen it before, but never this combination of symptoms. Tell me, General, did they ever teach you about conversion disorder as a part of your interrogation training?"

Roy slowly shook his head, eyes hardened once again. "No. So what is it?" He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

"It's something that even we doctors are still trying to fully understand. But what we are figuring out is that it is a way of showing psychological stress in a physical way. So, something must have happened to trigger this; something stressful that she didn't want to see or hear." He watched as the General's gaze completely softened. "We must tread very carefully, General. The body is good at healing physical injuries, but the mind is different; it requires time and patience."

Mustang leaned forward, bracing his elbows against his knees and intertwining his fingers. "How… how long will she be like this?"

The doctor slowly shook his head, "I don't know, General. It's generally temporary, but it can take weeks or even months for symptoms to resolve. With immediate and proper management, they will go away in time. Right now, we need to focus on getting her to allow us to take proper care of her."

Roy looked at him with a worn expression. "How are we going to do that if she won't even let you touch her?"

"That's the thing, General. We can't do anything about that; we need her trust." The doctor looked Roy in the eyes, his face serious. "But you can do something about it, because there is no one in this world that she trusts more than you."

* * *

Edward looked at the clock on the wall in Mustang's living room. It was midnight. The General had rushed out around 10p.m., so two hours had passed. He wrinkled his brow in concern. Had something happened?

Deciding that he couldn't idly sit around (he was much too awake for that now), Edward stood and threw on his brown trench coat. Limping over to the coffee table, he grabbed the vase filled with lilies and began making his way toward the door.

Before he opened it, however, he stopped; his eyes again gravitating toward the picture frames on the dusty bookcase. He narrowed his eyes and studied them.

The first was a picture of Roy, dressed in civilian attire, standing next to a larger, black-haired woman, adorned with various jeweled trinkets and a red dress. She looked very similar to Mustang, but not as much as a mother would. _An aunt, maybe?_

The next picture caused Edward's heart to drop slightly. It was a picture of Maes Hughes and Roy in partial uniform, their arms around each other in a silly embrace. Both of their eyes were closed and they were smiling widely. Roy's arm was loosely hanging around the other man's neck, while Hughes had his arm behind Roy, flashing a "thumbs up" to the camera.

Not wanting to dwell too long on the memory of the late Brigadier General, Edward slowly turned his gaze toward the third picture. He felt a small smile creep across his face. All of Mustang's team members, plus Edward and Al, were seated or standing around a wooden table. He remembered that day: the team had thrown together a small cookout to welcome the two boys to Eastern City. Jean Havoc and Heymans Breda were standing next to the grill chatting casually, a spatula in Havoc's right hand and a cigarette in his left. Vato Falman was standing at the end of the table, a drink in hand and a small smile on his face, staring directly into the camera. On his left, seated at the table, was Alphonse. The suit of armor was holding an empty glass up in a toast. Across from him was Lieutenant Hawkeye, her arm raised, glass in hand, returning the toast to Al. Edward casually noted that her hair was grown out enough to just reach her shoulders. He found himself wondering why she had chosen to grow it out in the first place.

Tearing his eyes away from the Lieutenant, in an effort to stop the growing pain in his chest, he looked down the table. He saw himself seated next to Al, across from the then Colonel Mustang. He had been caught mid-yell, his finger pointed accusingly at the older man, most likely barraging the Colonel with a variety of insults. The Colonel, nearly his polar opposite, was leaning back, his eyes closed and his arms folded in front of him, his mouth open in a gleeful laugh. Finally, Edward saw Kain Fuery in the corner of the picture, glancing over his shoulder, caught mid-sprint. Most likely, Edward deduced, the camera had a timer and the Sargent had set it.

With the small smile still on his face, Edward turned his attention to the fourth picture. It was a picture of Mustang and Hawkeye wearing their military garb. Mustang was seated at his desk, elbows resting on it, and his chin resting on his interlaced hands. A small smile graced his lips. On the other hand, Lieutenant Hawkeye was standing just behind him and to his left, her hair in its typical updo and her arms crossed behind her back. Unlike Mustang's, her expression was a stoic one; though Edward noted, her eyes were soft. This picture looked recent.

He turned away from the picture, pushing the word _recent_ out of his head. He didn't want to think about anything recent.

Finally, his eyes rested on the fifth picture. This was an older one, with its edges slightly boxed and the gloss having faded long ago. In it were two children. Edward squinted, identifying the first as a younger Roy, no older than fifteen. He was grinning, his smiling eyes focused on the person next to him. Edward's eyes darted over to the second child. She was a head shorter than Roy and a few years younger. Her light hair was cut short with a tomboyish appearance and her large, dark eyes were fixed on the camera, seemingly oblivious to the charmed boy next to her. Her hand was outstretched, a small, undistinguishable figurine resting on her palm. A small smile was painted on her face. Edward's eyes narrowed. She had an uncanny resemblance to… Hawkeye?

Suddenly, everything made sense. Mustang's reactions, his almost obsessive concern, and his unwavering loyalty to his subordinate. His passion, his drive, and… his love.

Edward had always known that they loved each other. He knew the moment he had first seen them interact. From the way they looked at each other to the way their hands brushing past each other's when they exchanged paperwork; it was almost painstakingly obvious. But now it made sense.

His eyes scanned back to the younger Mustang. Edward recognized the look that he was giving her. It was one of love. The General hadn't fallen in love with her in Ishval or while serving the military. He had fallen in love with her much earlier than that.

Edward slowly became aware that he was still standing, clutching the vase and flowers in his hands. He looked down at them, suddenly seeing their significance.

Casting one last glance at the fifth picture, Edward turned, the flowers in hand, and made his way to the door; opened it, and closed it behind him.

* * *

Roy was terrified. He didn't know how he was going to do this; to make the Lieutenant trust him without panicking again. But he knew that he had to try. _At least_, he thought to himself, _I have one trick up my sleeve._

She was awake now. Dr. Marcoh had adjusted the bed she was in so that she was sitting upright. Her brown eyes were cautiously scanning the room.

When Roy had asked why she was bothering to look around, the doctor had replied by telling him that she was most likely acting defensively, trying to make them think she saw them. The thought broke his heart.

He knew that it was now or never. Slowly, cautiously, he reached forward, taking her hand in his.

She gasped and flinched away, turning her brown-eyed gaze toward him, silently warning him.

He decided to continue, this time gingerly taking her wrist in his right hand, his other hand gently grasping her elbow, pulling her arm closer.

She tried in vain to pull her arm away, but quickly gave up, realizing that she couldn't pull away from his firm grip. Her cold gaze gave way to one that was filled with fear.

Keeping his tight grip on her wrist, he released his other hand and quickly dug into his pocket, pulling out a small, tan-colored object. Before she could attempt at pulling away again, the General gently placed it in her palm, and then released his hold on her wrist.

She swiftly withdrew her arm, curling her fingers around the object.

He watched as she methodically ran her thumb over it, feeling every imperfection and flaw on the piece. She moved her eyes downward, as if scanning it.

Dr. Marcoh, who was standing behind Roy's chair, finally spoke. "What is that," he breathed.

Roy smiled weakly, never taking his eyes off his Lieutenant. "A toy dog."

"A toy what?"

Roy sighed slowly. "Long story short; when we were just kids, one of the first things I transmuted from stone was this small dog figurine. She loved it, but I hated it. I immediately found so many flaws with it that I tried taking it from her. I wanted to make something better for her. Of course, she refused, saying it was perfect the way it was. One thing led to another, and before we could react, she dropped it, breaking its left ear off." His lips drew into a thin smile at the memory. "She was so upset with me; even though I made a new one, she wanted the original, still claiming that it was perfect the way it was.

"Of course, I lied and told her that I had gotten rid of it." He chuckled lightly, "She didn't speak to me for a week." He looked up at Riza, who was still running her thumb along the figurine, turning it in her hand. "I kept it, though, as a reminder of our childhood; our innocence. I've carried it with me these past few weeks, too; kind of like a good luck charm."

Dr. Marcoh opened his mouth to respond, but stopped when he saw Roy tense.

Riza had turned the dog over and had run her thumb over the spot where it was missing its ear. She stopped, eyes slowly widening in recognition. She ran her thumb over the spot again and again until, Roy assumed, she was sure about what she was feeling.

Her face slowly changed, first to an expression of disbelief, then to one of relief. Slowly looking up, she trained her gaze on where she determined his face would be. Her glistening eyes stared into his own.

"Roy…" Her voice came out as a hoarse, weak whisper, as if she hadn't spoken in weeks.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and reached forward, wrapping his hand around her right forearm. He lifted his thumb and began quickly tapping rhythmically on her arm. "_I'm here."_

She drew in a ragged breath, desperately trying to choke back a sob.

Roy gently released her arm and tucked his arm behind her, his hand between her shoulder blades, supporting her as she lifted herself up.

Leaning forward, Riza reached beneath Roy's arm and wrapped her arm around and up, gripping his shoulder tightly. She buried her head into his chest, this time letting a quiet sob escape her lips.

He wrapped his other arm around her and drew her close, taking care to avoid her injuries. He felt the lump in his throat forming again, but he didn't try to push it back. Instead, he embraced it, letting his emotions flow out. Emotions that had built up for the past few months: rage, terror, despair; he let them all go… and he wept.

He wept to rid himself of his negative emotions, to replace them with feelings of hope and happiness and love.

Roy knew that the coming weeks and months would be difficult, and they sometimes would seem impossible, but right here and right now, that didn't matter.

Because right now, the only thing that mattered was that they were reunited, together at last.

* * *

**And that concludes Chapter 6, "Toy Dog."**

**I had trouble naming this chapter, to be honest (which is funny, because I already have the next two chapters named, and I haven't even written them yet!). I was stuck between "Photographs," "Together," and "Toy Dog." I ended up on "Toy Dog" because I like the significance (and I also like to imagine that readers who read the chapter title before reading the chapter will see the title and think 'What…?'). "Together" was a close second though, since a previous chapter was named "Separated."**

**I hope I conveyed their emotions well in this chapter. So hopefully I translated what I saw eloquently, and didn't make anything too cheesy sounding or unclear. **

**And the whole tapping on Riza's arm thing; I will explain it more clearly next chapter, but it's pretty much Morse code (in case anyone was wondering). So when you see text in italics and quotes, that is what Roy is saying via the code. **

**Also, if you have time, check out "conversion disorder" online. It's pretty interesting (and it's real; not something I made up). The reason why that and those particular symptoms were written into the story will be explained in time (but it is significant, like everything else). Because someone rarely comes out of a situation like that without psychological damage.**

**Anyways, hope you enjoyed! The next chapter will probably be out early-mid week next week.**


	7. Rays of Light

Roy winced every time he saw the needle and surgical suture poke and weave through the wound on Riza's side. Wounds he could handle, but suturing, for whatever reason, made him uncomfortable. Still, the process was a lot faster than he had anticipated; though Dr. Marcoh claimed he had been out of practice for a while, his hands begged to differ. His large, gloved hands moved quickly and efficiently, pulling the suture material through both sides of the wound, closing it, and knotting it in mere seconds.

As the doctor moved onto the final knot, Roy turned his attention back to his Lieutenant. She was lying on her right side; her right arm was stretched out in front of her her, held between both of Roy's hands. Her eyes were finally closed and she was taking deep, long breaths. But Roy knew that she wasn't sleeping. Every time he moved or flinched, her eyes would fly open, her face filled with worry. After giving her hand a quick, reassuring squeeze, she would eventually relax and close her eyes again.

Dr. Marcoh had warned Roy that the pain relievers he had given her would help her sleep, but it appeared that this time that wasn't the case. It was as if she was afraid of falling asleep.

"Well," Dr. Marcoh finally spoke, breaking the silence, "I believe I got all of the original sutures out. I used a stronger material this time, so the wound should not open as easily as it did this time." The doctor paused, then noted, "That being said, I would like for you to tell her when she wakes up to not make any sudden movements or move too often, especially for these first few days." He reached over and gently tugged the fabric of her new scrub shirt over the stitched wound.

"Unfortunately, she isn't sleeping yet," Roy replied wearily. He reoriented his hands so he was holding her hand in one of them and began rapidly drummed the fingers from his other hand on Riza's wrist. She indolently opened her eyes, staring straight ahead, and furrowed her brow. After a few moments, she acknowledged the instructions with a faint nod of her head, and then slowly closed her eyes again.

Out of the corner of his eye, Roy could see the doctor watching them intently. He turned his head and looked back at the doctor. "Is there anything else you need to tell her?"

Marcoh slowly shook his head before asking, "Tell me, General, what is that code you are using? It certainly isn't military."

Roy shrugged his shoulders slightly, "It's just something we came up with years ago. Similar to Morse code, but a bit more complex." He left it at that. He did not feel the need or desire to explain that it was something they had devised when Roy was her father's student in order to silently communicate through the walls of their bedrooms.

Realizing that the younger man would not elaborate further, the doctor quickly grabbed his tools and supplies and began putting them into a leather bag. Once he had finished organizing his belongings, he stood and said, "I will leave you two alone now." Glancing up at the clock on the wall, he added, "A nurse will be in some time around 12:30 for the next round of medications."

Roy, who had turned back to watch Riza and had her hand cupped again between his, nodded silently. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dr. Marcoh make his way to the door. When the doctor had his hand on the door handle, Roy cleared his throat, grabbing Marcoh's attention. As the man turned back to him, Roy murmured, "Thank you, Dr. Marcoh, for everything."

The corners of Marcoh's lips turned upward in a small smile. "Of course, General." Without another word, the older man quietly slipped out the door, gently closing it behind him.

After the doctor had gone, Roy turned his full attention back to Riza. During his brief discussion with Dr. Marcoh, he had noticed that her grip on his hand had slowly loosened. Now, the only thing holding her hand where it was were his two hands. She had finally fallen asleep.

He frowned. Though he was thankful she was finally resting, Roy couldn't help but feel crestfallen. She had not spoken since she had uttered his name, instead only communicating to him by shaking her head or nodding, never once casting her eyes in his general direction. Something was haunting her, and that greatly upset him. He wanted to know what was going on inside her mind, the inevitable turmoil she was experiencing. Roy knew better than to ask, but sitting idly by while she struggled to make sense of it all made him feel physically ill. He wanted to share her burden, so that she didn't have to fight alone. He wanted to-

Roy's thoughts were interrupted by a small _rasp_ on the door. As he looked up, the door slowly opened, revealing an exhausted Fuhrer Grumman. Upon seeing Roy, the Fuhrer shot him a subdued grin.

Closing the door behind him, the Fuhrer slowly advanced forward, his eyes fixed on Riza. Once he had made it around the bed and next to Roy, the tired old man collapsed in the chair previously occupied by Dr. Marcoh. After a few moments of silence, Grumman finally cleared his throat and spoke, his voice low, "I ran into Dr. Marcoh in the hallway. He had been giving me updates all day and he just gave me his latest report." The older man slowly turned his weary gaze toward the Flame Alchemist. "This definitely wasn't something I was expecting, General Mustang. However," he leaned forward slightly, "I am thankful that _you_ are here."

"Sir…"

The old man smiled sadly, "I want to thank you for everything you've done for my granddaughter, everything up until this point and beyond." He turned back to a sleeping Riza, his eyes distant, "I have already lost my wife and my daughter; I was so afraid that I would lose her too." He paused, the silence stretching on for minutes, his brows knitted together.

When he had returned from his memories, he looked Roy in the eye, "Thanks to you and your men, I don't have to say goodbye; I just have to wait a while longer before saying 'hello' again."

Roy didn't respond at first. Instead, he watched the older man, taking in his appearance. The past few months have not been kind to the Fuhrer. His normally bright eyes were dulled, almost lifeless, and the corners of his mouth hung in a perpetual frown, unlike the small smile he was often seen wearing. Roy knew that the past couple of months had been stressful for the old man. Becoming the leader of a broken country was no easy task. Take that _and _factor in the current situation, and you have a worn-down, exhausted leader.

"Sir, are you okay?" Roy finally spoke, his concerned eyes desperately trying to catch the older man's.

Grumman forced a smile and turned slightly toward Roy. "I will be now, General, because I know that you are here with her.

"That being said, I have decided to temporarily suspend your time in Ishval." Ignoring the General's surprised gasp, the Fuhrer continued, his eyes looking down at his hands, which were clasped together in his lap, "For the time being, Major Miles will take over any and all operations." He paused, as if expecting Mustang to counter back. When no protest came, Grumman looked up and went on, "Your new assignment will be to remain here in Central in order to work on Riza's case."

Roy slowly nodded. He should not have been surprised; he had seen this coming. The past few months he had pushed many of his responsibilities to the side, oftentimes having the case take precedent over tasks that involved the rebuilding. He was too emotionally invested, and the reconstruction of Ishval was suffering because of it. For now, it was the best and only option that Roy saw; he simply could not bear the thought of leaving his Lieutenant's side.

Still, he could not shake the feelings of guilt that plagued him for leaving so many projects undone in the struggling region. He felt as if he had failed Riza, the Fuhrer, and the people of Ishval.

Seeing the lines of distress on the General's face, Grumman reached out and placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder. As if he had read the younger's mind, the Fuhrer said, "I don't want you to think that I am removing you entirely from Ishval, General. I just feel that, for right now, the best thing you can do is to stay here, work on the case, and look after my granddaughter. After all," he said slowly, "you are the only one that can communicate with her at this time."

Roy watched as the older man slowly stood and reached behind him, rubbing his lower back. "These hospital chairs can really do a number on your back," he complained lightly. "Maybe I should actually look at their proposal for more funding; at least they'd have enough to buy some decent chairs, eh?"

Roy couldn't help but smile slightly at the Fuhrer's small attempt at lightening the mood. Even at the darkest times, the old man could still manage to find a few rays of light.

Grumman cracked his back and slowly straightened himself. "Well, I should get going. I have a council meeting bright and early to discuss the growing tension in Aerugo. Unfortunately, this is one meeting I can't sleep through." He was halfway to the door before he remembered something and spun around, "Lieutenant Colonel Rodin should be back within the next few days. I will call before then for an update."

When he made it to the door and opened it, the Fuhrer stopped once again in the doorframe. Roy watched the older man intently. Without turning back to face the General, he spoke once more, his voice soft, "Please take care of her, General." Without another word, he disappeared, closing the door behind him with a small _click_.

* * *

Edward slowly made his way down the fifth hallway he found, his attempts at navigating the hospital backfiring on him with each step. He was afraid that, if he asked for directions again, he would be "escorted" out.

He scowled. When he had asked the first nurse he encountered where the intensive care unit was, the nurse, without looking up from her work, simply replied by pointing toward the hospital's exit and noting that "visiting hours were over."

He rounded a corner and ran into something large and blue. Stumbling backwards, Edward caught himself and the vase of flowers, then glared. The soldier he had run into turned his body slightly toward the boy, glaring back.

As he opened his mouth to say something, another voice cut him off. "Oh, Edward! I didn't expect seeing you here."

Edward leaned over and peered around the uniformed man, only to find the Fuhrer himself smiling back at him. He quickly threw him a rare, though sloppy, salute. "Hello Fuhrer Grumman. I didn't expect seeing you here either." He honestly didn't. _Why is the Fuhrer here so late at night?_

Edward suddenly became aware that the Fuhrer and his military escort had stationed themselves in front of the neonatal unit. Out of the corner of his eye and through the window they were situated in front of, Edward could see a few sleeping newborns, swaddled in blue and pink blankets. "Are you visiting someone?"

The Fuhrer nodded. "I stopped by to check up on my granddaughter."

"Oh," Edward replied as he turned toward the window and leaned forward, peering through it. "Which one is yours?"

"Wha- Oh, no, no, no!" The old man chuckled and shook his head. "I just stopped to admire the little ones on my way out." The Fuhrer's eyes then wandered down to the vase of flowers in Edward's hands. "Well, those are lovely. Are you here to visit someone?"

Edward nodded and cast his glance down at the vase. "Yeah," he replied slowly. "I don't know if you know Lieutenant Hawkeye, but she's here right now, so I figured I would come by and drop these off."

"Yes, I do know Lieutenant Hawkeye quite well. She's my granddaughter," the Fuhrer replied nonchalantly.

_Granddaughter?_ Edward stared at the older man for a few seconds, unable to see any resemblance between the two. _How have I never heard this?_

As if he had read the young boy's mind, the Fuhrer elaborated. "We haven't made it public knowledge since we, or rather she, didn't want to be accused of any special treatment because of my position in power."

_That makes sense_, Edward thought, though he was still having trouble finding similarities between the two. After a few more moments of thought, he abandoned the notion completely. There were more important things to deal with. Looking up from the flowers, he asked quietly, "How is she?"

The smile that graced the Fuhrer's face slowly disappeared, replacing itself with a frown, changing his face to one of sadness." Well, she could be better, my boy." He turned his eyes away from Edward and looked wistfully through the window in front of them, his eyes not focusing on anything in particular. When he spoke again, his voice was low and shaking, "It's a strange feeling… This powerlessness. I am considered the most powerful man in this country, and yet I still cannot do anything to help." He turned his distant, fatigued gaze toward Edward. "You probably can relate to her better than anyone here at this point; you're more helpful than I could ever be."

The old man nodded toward Edward, "If I remember correctly, you lost your limbs during the eastern rebellion, did you not?"

Edward, now perplexed, nodded slowly, not understanding the Fuhrer's eccentric train of thought. That was the story they fed to the rest of the military, so yes, he did "lose his limbs during the eastern conflict." But he didn't understand what any of that had to do with-

He stopped mid-thought, his mind turning back to and replaying the conversation. _Powerlessness. _Why?_ Can't help. Relate to…? _How? _Lost limbs…_

Edward's thoughts were interrupted by a loud _crash_. Stunned, he gradually tilted his head down and looked at his now empty hands. Through them, he could see the unfocused outlines of flowers, water, and broken glass strewn across the floor. Looking down at his now trembling hands, Edward's eyes widened with dismay as he was hit with the sudden realization. _No… This-this can't be! It's-that's-_

"Edward?"

At the sound of his name, Edward haltingly raised his golden eyes, only to have them meet those of the one man he couldn't bear to face: Roy Mustang.

* * *

**Sorry for the short chapter guys! Grumman was kind of a last minute addition. I hope I wrote him well, because I wasn't originally planning on him making an appearance at this point. After mulling it over though, I figured it would be best to have him come in and dismiss Roy from Ishval and tell Edward about Hawkeye (since obviously Roy isn't talking about it to anyone and Dr. Marcoh can't due to patient confidentiality). **

**I could picture everything about this chapter in my head, but I don't know if I'm 100% happy with the result. I figured I would post it though, since it's the closest I will get to being satisfied with it (I desperately want to get on to the next chapter, so this one was a necessary evil).**

**Also, I think I am going to change the description for this story to read: "Edward Elric cannot stomach the guilt. Feeling responsible for the abduction of Riza Hawkeye, he vows to do whatever it takes to help Roy Mustang pick up the pieces. As he gets further into the case, Edward too finds that those he cherishes most, his pressure points, are targeted. Will they be able to **_**find those responsible**_**, or pay the ultimate price? Royai, Parental!RoyEd,EdWin."**

**So what does that mean for the overall story? Not much, except that the "bad guy's" motive will be a little different. Don't worry though. The story itself will not change much, just the motive. What does this mean for the readers? More Royai, more Parental!RoyEd, and definitely more EdWin than previously planned.**

**Since this chapter was shorter than the rest, I will give you an idea of what the next chapter is about: The next chapter will be centered around Parental!RoyEd and it will have flashbacks to a few months ago. The chapter's title is "Whiskey Lullaby." (Yes, it is named after that one country song). It isn't written yet, but it is one of the chapters I've had plotted out since the beginning, so it won't be too hard to write. I'm hoping to have it out before classes (yuck) start next week.**

**Finally, I wanted to give you all an idea of when you will figure out what exactly Edward did to make himself feel so guilty. It will probably be around Chapters 10-12, depending on the lengths of the next few chapters I write. I'm not trying to build suspense just to build it, but trust me; there is a reason for why it's revealed so late in the story.**

**Wow! Long author's note… Anyways, enjoy, and feel free to review what you like/don't like so far. And a big thank you to everyone that has reviewed, favorited, or followed the story thus far! I greatly appreciate it! :)**


	8. Whiskey Lullaby

Moments after the Fuhrer had left, there was another knock on the hospital room door. Seconds later, the door creaked open and a young nurse walked in, carrying a tray of syringes and medical notes. She smiled politely at the General as she made her way over to Riza's bedside.

"Hello, General," she began softly. "I'm just here to administer the next round of medications."

Roy glanced up at the clock. It was 12:20a.m.; she was early. The General simply nodded in reply.

The young woman quietly walked around behind him and gently placed the tray on the bedside table next to him. He watched as she gingerly picked up and uncapped the needle on a syringe filled with a clear, viscous liquid. Holding it in one hand, she flicked the barrel of it several times, releasing any air bubbles that had suspended themselves in the liquid. She reached over and took the IV line in her free hand and pulled it toward her.

Roy awkwardly scooted his chair away from the nurse, attempting to stay out of her way. Unfortunately, with what little space there was next to the bed, the task proved difficult. Realizing that his endeavor had failed, Roy opted to stand, pushing the chair away from himself and the nurse.

He stood uncomfortably off to the side, watching the nurse intently as she picked up the second syringe. Suspecting that she sensed his uneasiness, he noticed the young woman turn and flash him a small smile. "I will still be a few minutes, General. After I'm done dispensing these, I have to note Miss Hawkeye's vitals. Why don't you run down to the cafeteria? They just set out some fresh sandwiches."

"Thank you for letting me know, but I'm alright," Roy replied shortly. A few moments later, however, his stomach groaned in protest.

The corners of the nurse's lips turned downward. Her smile disappeared and was instead replaced with a look of concern. "Sir, I think eating would do you some good. You look awfully pale."

He shook his head adamantly. "Really, I'm fine. I ate before I got here." By the look she gave him, he knew that she had caught his lie.

The woman sighed and set down the syringe in her hand and stood. Walking a few paces over to him, she folded her arms and looked up at the Flame Alchemist, frowning. "General, I am insisting that you go." Her voice was stern.

He remained unmoving, watching her. He was just fine. He didn't have to-no, he didn't need to go.

Changing tactics, the nurse said, "Sir, if you get sick you will not be able to remain here; the risk for infection will increase. Miss Hawkeye's immune system is weakened, so something as simple as the common cold could be enough to kill her."

_That_ caught his attention. After watching the woman for a few moments, he realized that he had lost the battle. He reluctantly sighed and looked away, muttering that he would return in a couple of minutes. _I will be back in two_. Casting one last glance at Riza, the General slowly walked to the door and opened it.

After stepping into the hallway, Roy turned and quickly made his way toward the cafeteria. After navigating a few twists and turns, he found himself standing in front of the dining hall doors. Right as he was about to push and open them, he heard a loud crash.

Taking his hand off the door, he took off in the direction of the sound. Rounding one last corner, he stopped.

Edward Elric was standing in front of Fuhrer Grumman and two Amestrian soldiers, his eyes staring down at his hands. On the floor in front of him was the remnants of the vase and flowers Roy had bought earlier that night. The youth's face was as white as a sheet, his hands trembling.

Roy took a small step forward. "Edward?"

The boy's wide golden eyes shot up and met his. For a moment, neither one of them moved. Finally, Roy took another step forward, his eyes focused on the former alchemist. "Edward?" he asked again, slowly, firmly.

Edward retreated backwards, accidently running into and knocking over a passing nurse. The boy spun around and frantically looked back and forth from the nurse to Roy, his hysteria magnifying by the second.

Then, with one last, panicked look toward Roy, the boy turned and fled around the corner, disappearing from sight.

Roy bolted forward in pursuit. However, as soon as he had turned the corner, the boy was gone.

* * *

Edward ran. He ran and ran until his automail gave out beneath him, screeching as he collapsed to the ground. Turning his head and looking over his left shoulder hastily, he saw that he wasn't being pursued. He twisted his head around to the right and saw a narrow alleyway beside him. Scrambling into it, he pressed himself against a wall and curled his legs up to his chest, grabbing his head in his hands. He gritted his teeth and clenched his eyes shut, trying desperately to suppress the lump in his throat; but to no avail. The scream erupted from his mouth, the vibrations coursing throughout his body. He could hear it bouncing off the walls, playing back to him in real time, reminding him of his failure over and over again.

When his lungs had become deprived of all of the air they possessed, the echoes, along with his screams, ceased.

He remained there, unmoving, unaware of the amount of time that passed.

He killed her. Not literally, but figuratively. Indirectly.

Without her arm, how could she possibly protect Mustang? Her whole goal, _her whole purpose_, was ripped from her grasp because he couldn't follow orders. A life without meaning is no life at all. And the absence of life was death. So in his mind she was dead.

At one time, everyone had thought that she was dead… even Mustang.

He opened his eyes and stared forward through his fingers. Even the General had given up and thought that she was dead at one time. What would Mustang do now?

Edward had seen what a grief-stricken Mustang was capable of doing to himself. And that terrified him.

* * *

_Edward yawned widely and stretched his arms above him head. Opening his eyes slowly, he peered up at the clock on the wall. It was already past midnight. Probably time to turn in._

_Walking out of and closing the door to the "library" (or rather, a small, dull room with literally two bookcases), Edward gradually made his way down the darkened hallway. _

_All of the lights were out in every room he passed, so most of the soldiers were probably already up on the third level of the complex in their dorms, sleeping. Like he should be. He had missed the "strongly encouraged" curfew that was set for 11p.m. every night. No one was allowed outside the building or unaccompanied in the hallways after that time. But as far as he could tell, no one was enforcing it. He was completely alone._

_As he turned down another hallway, he thought back to that day's mission. Mustang, Havoc, Breda, and he had followed a lead that Lieutenant Colonel Rodin had given them. This one had led them to an old abandoned warehouse a few towns over. The only things they had found were discarded machinery, a few loose wrappers, and a very surprised, and angry, homeless man. So in summary, another failure._

_After they had piled back into the vehicle they had driven there, Edward could see the desperation in the General's eyes. He knew that as soon as they would get back, Mustang would have to write another report documenting their failure and turn it in to the bookkeeper there, who would not-so-subtly jab at the team, citing them for using valuable resources for a lost cause. _

_The first few times, Mustang nearly set the man on fire (if it hadn't been for Havoc, he probably would have succeeded). The last time, though, the General simply turned in the report, took the inevitable berating, and quietly returned to his office. _

_This time, however, Mustang didn't return after filing his report. _

_Now, Edward was coming up on the office that they all shared. As he walked past, he nonchalantly glanced at the door. Something bright caught his eye. He stopped and backtracked, noticing that the door was slightly cracked open. Gently pushing against it, the door slowly opened without effort. Peering inside, he saw a small, dimmed oil lamp sitting on the floor. Next to it, back leaning against the desk was the silhouette of a man._

_He narrowed his eyes and slowly crept forward, eyes never leaving the shadow. When he was within a few feet of the mysterious person, Edward's eyes opened with recognition. _

_Roy Mustang sat cross-legged in front of him, leaning his back against the oak desk that was meant for him. His already unkempt hair looked even more so, sticking out at odd angles. A plethora of papers was strewn carelessly around him. Resting on top of one of them was his hand, which was clutching a large bottle of whiskey. It was half empty._

_Still unaware of the boy's presence, the General lifted the bottle to his lips and took a swig, closing his eyes as the fiery liquid burned his throat. He leaned his head back and rested it on the edge of the desk. After a few moments, he slowly became aware of his unexpected company. Dark, hollow eyes trained over to the boy and locked on him, narrowing coldly. "Oh… Hey Fullmetal," his voice full of venom._

_Ignoring the General's cruel welcome, Edward pointed at the bottle seated next to the inebriated man. "Where did you get that?" he asked harshly. "I thought this was a dry country." He surprised himself by his tone, but he couldn't help it. What the hell was the General doing?_

_The General simply shrugged and turned away from the boy, staring straight ahead. After taking another drink, he finally growled, "I brought it."_

_Edward could feel his anger rising within him, threatening to boil over. Before that could happen, he stopped himself and instead asked calmly, "Why are you drinking it?"_

_The General raised and lowered his shoulders again, "Because I can."_

_Edward positioned himself in front of the man and crouched down, so that he was only a foot from the General. His eyes slowly ran down Mustang's other arm, finding his fist balled around a crumpled piece of paper. _

_Before the General could even react, the boy snatched the paper from his hand and stood up. Mustang responded by lunging at the boy, but his lack of coordination bested him, causing him to fall forward on his hands._

_As Mustang was recovering, Edward smoothed out the paper now in his possession. Squinting in the dim light, he could just make out the first few sentences: _'Status change: First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye. Missing in action. Presumed dead. Effective: 05/09/1915.'

_He felt his heart drop. _They had given up_. He slowly looked up, golden eyes once again meeting lifeless, charcoal ones. _And he… even he has given up_._

_Without thinking, Edward grabbed the front of Mustang's jacket and pulled him forward, the Flame Alchemist's face inches from his own. "So you're just giving up!?" he snarled threateningly. _

_The General stared back, his dark eyes dull and nearly devoid of life. This only made Edward angrier._

"_Answer me!"_

_Mustang shoved Edward away and fell backwards, smashing into the desk. He slowly raised a trembling finger and pointed at the boy, his glare piercing through the former alchemist. "I am your __**commanding officer**__. You have __**no **__right to-"_

"_-To treat you that way, right?" Edward finished furiously. "Well guess what? I didn't sign up for this, only to give up when someone says so. And you know what else… I am __**no **__follower to someone that quits!"_

"_Then leave," Mustang slurred, his words laced with poison._

"_No," Edward shot back. _

"_You read the report," Mustang fired back as he raised the bottle to his lips again. "'Presumed dead,'" his voice cracked at the word 'dead.' "What more do you want me to-"_

"_I want you to get up and keep moving forward," Edward was yelling, screaming, now; he smacked the bottle out of Mustang's hands. It landed a few feet away and shattered into thousands of pieces, spewing mahogany-colored liquid everywhere. He didn't care. He'd break a thousand bottles and wake the entire building if necessary. "That's __**exactly**__ what I'm going to do. Because until we find a body, I'm going to assume that she's alive!"_

_Edward slowly rose to his feet and looked down at the General, his eyes softening the longer he looked. "Mustang… please," he quietly begged. "Don't give up. You," he gestured toward the General, "you're better than that. I know you are."*_

_Upon hearing those words, the Flame Alchemist stopped and stared up at the boy, his dark eyes widening. After a few moments, he looked down and buried his face into his hands, sitting motionlessly._

_Edward didn't know how long they remained there; him standing and Mustang sitting back against his desk. If he had to guess, it was probably a solid hour. Neither one of them dared to move._

_Finally, Mustang shifted and slowly staggered to his feet. Using the desk for support, he steadied himself. After he had gained his balance, he took a step forward and stumbled._

_Edward rushed to him and caught him before he hit the floor. Grabbing the General's arm, he wrapped it around his shoulders and began walking him toward the door, allowing Mustang to brace against him, his head resting heavily against Edward's shoulder._

_Mustang mumbled a few unintelligible words of protest, but Edward ignored them, instead choosing to silently lead him into a nearby elevator. _

_Once they had reached the third floor, Edward slowly made his way over to Mustang's room. When they arrived, he pushed the door open, turned on the lights, and dragged the older man to his bed. _

_Mustang reached out and, once he felt it, collapsed into it, resting his head against the pillow._

_Edward remained there, watching the General for a few moments. After a small snore confirmed that the man was asleep, Edward sank down next to the bed, eyeing the General wearily. It was going to be a long night._

* * *

_Boom!_

Edward jumped, startled out of his memory. He looked up at the sky and realized that the sky had let go, and a cold, hard rain was cascading around him. He hadn't even noticed that it had started to pour.

He sat, unmoving, letting the rain run down his face. His bangs clung to his face in a tangled mess, his body completely soaked to the bone.

He didn't know what to do now. He couldn't go back to Resembool… not yet. And he couldn't bear facing Mustang. And yet… he knew he had to. He had been the only one to see Mustang in that darkened state of mind. If he couldn't be there… who would be?

A chill ran up Edward's spine as he suddenly became aware of a dark shadow looming over him. He jerked his head around to see the outline of a man standing before him. A streak of lightening ripped through the air above, illuminating the figure and lighting up his features: wet, dripping black hair, cold coal-colored eyes, and a military jacket. His stomach dropped. _How long had he been standing there? _

Roy Mustang knelt down and grabbed the boy's shoulders, looked him square in the eye and muttered, "Come with me."

Edward slowly nodded before trying to struggle to his feet, his automail protesting with every move he made. When he was about to straighten himself out, Mustang grabbed him firmly beneath the arm and lifted him to his feet. Edward didn't object, keeping his eyes lowered to the ground.

Mustang half-dragged, half-carried the hobbling teen to a waiting car. The older man opened the passenger side door for the boy and guided him in. After slamming the door shut, Mustang jogged around the car and slid into the driver's seat. Without a word, he shifted the car into 'drive' and began making his way down the cobblestone street.

After a few minutes of listening to the purr of the car's engine, the General finally spoke, his eyes remaining on the road. "Why did you run?"

Edward flinched. It was more of a statement than a question. Instead of replying, he simply turned his head and solemnly stared out the window, watching the houses whiz past them. For once in his life, he couldn't think of a single thing to say to Roy Mustang.

* * *

After driving in silence for another ten minutes, they eventually arrived at their destination: Roy Mustang's apartment. The older man stopped the vehicle and put it into 'park' in front of the building. Out of the corner of Edward's eye, he could see Mustang turn toward him. Edward instinctively placed his hand on the door handle, trying not to look the General in the eye. He wanted to run again, as fast as he could away from the Flame Alchemist. But he knew he couldn't. With his damaged automail leg and the fact that Mustang had a car, Edward knew that his chances of outrunning the flame Alchemist were zero to none.

He didn't even know why he ran in the first place. He couldn't escape what happened; he knew that what was done was done. Still, he knew running didn't help. It was downright childish. But the thought of facing Mustang had become too much. He panicked and his body responded to that alarm, taking him as far away from the situation as it could.

But now, here he was, seated beside the man he had slowly, irrationally, begun to fear. His palms began to sweat and his heart was racing. He swallowed once, but his throat was arid. Even if he could speak, would he be able to?

Maybe if he just opened his mouth, the words would flood out and piece themselves together in a coherent mess of apologies and guilt. Maybe Mustang would understand, or maybe he wouldn't. Maybe a portal would open and Truth would drag him through. Even facing God would be better than facing Roy Mustang at this moment.

But he knew he had to.

Edward wetted his lips and cleared his throat. It was now or never.

"I-"

"You should go inside and get cleaned up," Mustang interrupted, face now turned toward the windshield, his expression deadpan and distant. "If there is anything you actually want to say to me, you can save it for later when I get back."

Edward watched him for a few moments, unsure whether or not Mustang would speak further.

Instead, Mustang turned back to the boy, his blank expression turned to one of indignation. "Are you going?" he asked, his voice laced with scorn.

Obeying the General's first order, Edward complied, opening the door and stumbling out. By the time he had closed it and turned back to face the vehicle and the man inside of it, Mustang was already halfway down the road.

Edward stared after the car, watching it as it turned a corner and disappeared. Once it was gone, he limped up the stairs and to the building's door, opened it, and went inside.

* * *

As soon as Edward entered the apartment, he felt a sense of unease wash over him. He suddenly felt like a trespasser, unwelcome.

Taking off his soaking wet jacket, he slowly dragged himself to the kitchen and wrung it out in the sink. Hearing the water hit the bottom of the steel basin made him realize how thirsty he was; he couldn't remember the last time he had eaten or drank anything.

He swallowed, trying to wet his raw, scratchy throat, but to no avail.

Reluctantly, he reached up to the nearest cupboard and opened it, hoping to find a small glass he could use. Instead, what he found was a nearly empty bottle of whiskey; the same brand Mustang drank in Ishval over a month ago. He slowly reached for it, but shrank back, his eyes remaining fixed on the container.

* * *

_Edward was the first to arrive in the small office they shared that next morning. Grabbing a dustpan and broom, he quickly swept up the remains of broken glass that decorated the floor. Unfortunately, the liquid had stained the carpeting. Hopefully no one would notice._

_Shortly after he had disposed of the evidence from the previous night's scene, Lieutenants Havoc and Breda arrived, soon followed by Sargent Fury. The three men greeted Edward, commenting on his earliness. He shrugged, and muttered that he had woken up and had nothing better to do. In reality, he had stayed up most of the night, cleaning up anything Mustang expelled from his stomach and making sure the older man was still breathing. _

_8:00a.m. came and went, causing the men to question where their General was. _

_Edward quickly fed them a fabricated story, saying that he had run into an ill Mustang earlier. The General, according to Edward, had accidentally eaten some expired food from a few days prior and had gotten food poisoning as a result._

_The men seemed to accept it, remembering the questionable meatloaf that was served a couple of days ago, citing that that was most likely the culprit._

_The rest of the day had gone by without incident. Every once in a while, one of the men would get up and mention something about going and checking on the General. Edward would interject every time, offering to go in their place, since he needed to go to the bathroom, pick something up from his dorm, etc. (anything that would convince them that he needed go upstairs instead of them)._

_The final time Edward had ventured upstairs to the General's room, as he was about to open the door, he heard movement inside. He frantically backed away and hid behind a corner, keeping his eyes fixed on the door._

_After a few moments, the door creaked open, and a disoriented General Mustang wandered out, rubbing his temples with his fingers. The man staggered to the washroom across the hall and disappeared inside. _

_Determining that that was a sign Mustang was improving, Edward quietly slipped away, returning to the office below._

* * *

_The next day, Mustang returned to work looking worse for wear. The dark circles under his eyes had grown and his hair and uniform were unkempt, giving the normally well-groomed man a sloppy and distasteful appearance. _

_When the men asked how he was doing, the General would glare, causing them to abandon their curiosity and scurry back to their seats in defeat._

_Edward noticed that the man rarely paid him any heed, ignoring him for the most part. Every once in a while, he swore he could feel Mustang glaring at the back of his head. However, every time he turned around, the General had his eyes glued to the paperwork in front of him, completely oblivious to the boy's stare._

_By the end of that day, Edward had determined that the man had no recollection of their encounter two nights before. _It's probably for the best_, he thought to himself, thankful that that was the case. He didn't want to imagine what Mustang would do to him if he remembered the way Edward had spoken to him._

_When 5:00p.m arrived, the General promptly picked up his papers, muttered a quick goodbye, and was on his way out the door. As the man passed Edward's desk, Edward cautiously glanced up, his eyes flicking to the file titled 'Ongoing Investigation' tucked underneath Mustang's arm. _

_Sticking out of the manila folder was the corner of a familiar wrinkled piece of paper._

* * *

Edward blinked a few times, realizing that his eyes were still locked on the bottle in front of him. Without thinking, he pulled the bottle down off of the shelf and set it on the counter. Walking over to the other cupboards, Edward threw their respective doors open and peered inside all of them. He repeated this for every cupboard, nook, and cranny in the entire kitchen and living room. After finding one other full bottle of liquor, the boy returned to the sink.

Staring at the bottle one last time, Edward thought about how unassuming it looked. To him, it looked like nothing more than a foul-smelling, brown liquid that only caused his nose to wrinkle in disgust. In reality, he knew that it was so much more than that. It had the potential to kill.

It had no right being there, sitting alone in that dark cupboard, silently beckoning a weakened man's mind. It had almost taken Mustang once, and, Edward decided, it would not have the chance to try and take him again.

Pulling the top off of the whiskey, he tipped the container and let the amber liquid flow out of it and down the drain.

* * *

**So… super long chapter this time with some flashbacks to Ishval! I had this chapter planned for a while, so I hope I wrote it out well enough. I wanted to get a few flashbacks in to kind of describe the relationship between Mustang and Edward during that time. But don't worry; there will be plenty more (of course).**

**Did anyone catch the '*' words that Edward spoke? It was a small nod to Riza's speech to the General during the final battle. **

**After next chapter, the story will move beyond the 72ish hours it has covered thus far, so it will pick up a bit more. The next chapter, I feel, will be necessary before the story progresses further.**

**The next chapter is titled "Escape," and it will primarily be Riza-centric. It will explore why Riza is avoiding talking to Roy and will also describe a pivotal moment during her confinement. So, just an early warning, it will be pretty dark.**

**Updates are going to be a bit slower now, probably one update every 1-1.5 weeks or so, now that classes are starting. Unless I say anything, the story will not be abandoned, but classes will take precedence (of course).**

**So, hope you enjoyed this update! And, of course, thank you to everyone that reviewed, favorited, and followed 'Pressure Point!' It's almost to 50 followers now. So, thank you!**


	9. Escape

**Again, just a warning that this chapter has dark tones. Reader discretion is advised. (More author's notes at the end.)**

* * *

_Riza stared at the small, black object that had been tossed through the small barred window of the steel door she was imprisoned behind. It was familiar._

_Slowly she reached out, her hand trembling, and clumsily grasped the barrel of the handgun, pulling it closer to herself. If she had the strength, she would have sat up and taken it in both hands so that she could examine it further. Instead, she remained on her right side, her left hand awkwardly wrapped around the barrel. She could tell from her position its make, model, and type: it was her gun, after all._

_Her eyes darted up to lock with the black, beady ones that stared back through the barred window. The very sight of those eyes made her stomach churn and her pulse intensify. She had never truly feared anyone, except for this man._

_She barely knew what he looked like, aside from his small black, soulless eyes. Most of the time, he and his "brothers" wore masks, concealing their identities. That one fact she clung to, because if they were trying to hide their faces, there was a chance she would escape. If they had shown them by now, she would know what they looked like, and her chances of survival would be slim. So, she held onto the small possibility of freedom._

_This time, his mask was removed. All she could see was his forehead and eyes. From what she could tell, his hair was greasy and black, and most likely grown out from the way he parted it. Any other features were concealed by the meager amount of light given off by the small lantern that hung by the door, always lit._

_She frowned. It was alarming that he wasn't wearing his mask. "What's the special occasion," she finally managed to croak, "I can see your face."_

_The corners of his eyes turned upward and wrinkled. He was smiling. "It _is _a special occasion, Lieutenant." She could hear the grin in his voice. "But first, I must ask. Did anyone bring you your celebratory dinner?"_

_She narrowed her eyes. Of course not. It was the same thing every time. They'd "forget" to give her any food for a few days, before finally "remembering," and bringing, at most, a loaf of bread and a canteen of lukewarm, dirty water._

"_They must have forgotten," she replied hardly._

"_Oh, that's a shame," he responded with a lack of empathy in his voice, "You must be starving."_

_Honestly, she really wasn't. She was past having pangs of hunger at that point. Her body had given up on food and had stopped demanding it days ago. Her sensation of hunger was gone._

_Still, the last time they had made their rounds, one of them was "kind" enough to toss her a piece of half-eaten bread, which she stashed in her pocket, saving it for when, or if, she did get her appetite back._

"_Well," he continued, "I will have to remind one of them if you decide to stay here with us."_

_She furrowed her brow. _Stay with them…?

"_I should elaborate," he purred. "I came to give you a message from the boss."_

'The boss,' _she thought to herself. Someone that she always heard of, but never saw._

"_Anyways," he advanced, "the boss told me that we've hit a milestone. It's been six weeks since you've gotten here!" He chuckled, "And in this case, that is certainly an achievement._

"_He wanted me to tell you that we've hit a crossroads, and you've got a very important decision to make." He paused dramatically, smiling eyes eagerly watching her, waiting for her to respond._

"_What is the decision," she questioned him sorely. She wasn't in a gaming mood._

"_We've decided to give you two options." He held his fist up to the window. "One," he pointed up with is index finger, "you can stay here with us."_

_She rolled her eyes subtly. _

"_Or two," he raised his middle finger up as well, "you are allowed the option to escape."_

_At the word 'escape,' Riza glared at him. What game was he playing? Of course she'd choose to escape._

"_So," he interrupted her thoughts. "What will it be?"_

"_Elaborate on 'escape,'" she replied weakly. Hopefully, she'd have enough strength to run._

_His eyes slowly trained down to the gun he had tossed in. "See that gun," he asked._

_She nodded wearily in response._

"_I have provided you with a single bullet. Now," he said quickly, "before you try picking it up and shooting me, know that I will be long gone before you so much as touch the trigger."_

_It was true. She didn't think she could even lift the gun, much less swiftly pick it up and fire it within a few seconds time. Six weeks ago, she would have no issues pulling the trigger before he even had the time to blink._

"_Understand?" he quipped._

_She didn't understand. Was he honestly thinking she would be able to shoot out the lock and take down, was it six men they had; yeah, six, men and still be able to walk about 35 kilometers in the barren desert? She thought he was crazy, he was mad, he was…_

_Playing with her._

_Riza realized that he was toying with her. He knew that she wouldn't be able to do everything she had just planned in her mind. He was hinting about an easy escape. One that involved a single bullet._

_Her eyes followed the length of her left arm, to the gun grasped loosely in her hand. She pulled it closer and examined it. Yes, it was definitely hers. She turned it around and frowned. The magazine had been welded into the grip. She couldn't pop it out to determine if it was loaded or not._

"_So," he interrupted, "have you decided on the path you would choose?"_

_Her eyes snapped back up and met his black ones. "I _won't_ be playing your game," she hissed, pulling her left hand off of the gun and tucking it back into her body._

_The corners of his eyes lifted again in a smile, "I'll let you think about it," he decided. And just like that, he was gone, leaving her alone._

_Her eyes trained back to the gun. Was he a fool? Did he honestly think that she would take her own life? _

* * *

_Riza slowly opened her eyes and groaned softly. Her head was swimming, her thoughts fuzzy. The lack of food was taking its toll on her. And still, the thought of food made her stomach lurch. She wouldn't be able to keep it down, even if she wanted to._

_Her eyes flicked over to the gun, still resting a few feet from her. She moved her leg up and pushed it away with the toe of her boot, sending it skidding into a corner._

* * *

"_Hey."_

_Riza's eyes popped open and she looked around, trying to locate the source of that voice. It was familiar, soothing, reassuring…_

_She frowned upon realizing who it was. It was the voice of Roy Mustang. In her heart, she knew it wasn't him, but her head tried desperately to fabricate him and convince her that he was there. It had been happening a lot lately. _

_Sometimes she would see him and hear his voice, other times she would only hear him. _

_She blamed _them_ for her delusions. Their preferred method of tormenting her had been to fit her with a snug set of earmuffs and a blindfold, completely cutting off her senses of hearing and sight. Sensory deprivation. Something she knew she could handle, to an extent…_

_They had trained for it before; military interrogation drills that were meant to prepare Amestrian soldiers should they ever be taken captive. She, of course, was the only one on the team, excluding Sargent Fuery, that had taken the training seriously._

_The drill sergeants told participating military officers to make lists in their heads, to go over anything and everything they could think of; anything to keep them sane._

_So, that's exactly what she did. For the first few days, Riza had gone over her daily schedule again and again, until she was positive she had memorized every single task she would normally do on a daily basis. Next, she went over the work she had left behind on her desk. She still had to forge the signatures of one lazy General on dozens of documents pertaining to new Ishvalan reconstruction tactics. _

_Then, she went over what steps it would take to teach Black Hayate how to play dead, rollover, and bow. She determined that it would take nine steps to teach him how to play dead, four steps to rollover, and six to bow. She was sure she could teach him when she got back._

_After she had run out of things to occupy her mind with, Riza began to think about everyone she had left behind. But thinking about them proved to be too dangerous for her. Soon, she realized that when she thought about them, they would eventually materialize themselves in front of her and talk to her._

_Once the blindfold and earmuffs were removed, the hallucinations would stop, but after a while, her mind had grown so accustomed to the company, that it decided to formulate them without the need to be blinded or deaf. At first it bothered her, knowing that she was speaking to apparitions; but after a while, she realized that something, even something that wasn't there, was better than nothing at all. _

_Because once, when there was nothing, she remembers laughing. It started as a snicker which transitioned into a giggle, which developed into a fit of laughter. She could only remember one time she had laughed that hard. _

When she and Roy were younger, he tried desperately to impress her by jumping over a large mud puddle that had formed after a rainstorm. The end result was him slipping and falling backwards into it, dousing himself in the dirt and grime. She had doubled over laughing, holding her stomach as she did so.

At first, he was embarrassed, yelling for her to stop laughing at him. But she only continued laughing, tears streaming down her face as she did. He looked so then ridiculous, sitting in that puddle of mud, covered head to toe in the brownish muck.

However, her laughter was short-lived, because moments after he had stopped protesting, she suddenly felt herself being pulled into his tight embrace. She felt her cheeks get warm. Roy Mustang, her father's fifteenth apprentice, was hugging her. Hugging her. She had never let the boy within a two foot radius of herself, and now here he was, his arms wrapped around her.

Her surprise quickly gave way to realization, which melted into anger. He was hugging her… and he was covered in mud. She tried desperately to push him away, but his embrace only tightened. It was his turn to laugh now.

After realizing that her attempts to escape his grasp were futile, she laughed with him, their voices carrying themselves through the forest. They must have looked ridiculous. Two children alone in the woods, covered completely in mud, laughing hysterically.

But she didn't care. Because she knew that as soon as they returned to her house, he would go back to being her father's studious apprentice, and she would return to being the forgotten daughter of a madman. So she let herself have this one fleeting moment of unadulterated happiness.

_Riza honestly couldn't remember what came first: the story or the laughter. Had the story triggered the laughter, or had the laughter caused her to remember the story?_

_That laughter, too, was ephemeral after she realized that she was laughing at nothing in particular. She abruptly stopped and decided that, yeah, imagining someone being there was better than nothing at all._

_Most of the time, it was Roy Mustang. Sometimes, however, Edward Elric, Alphonse Elric, Havoc, Breda, Fuery, or Falman would "visit." Whenever Edward Elric showed up, she always looked away. _They_ had told her repeatedly that they let him escape, but something in the back of her mind told her otherwise. _They _didn't show any mercy. But there was nothing she could do at this point, so she had to take their word for it and hope that he was alive somewhere..._

_So, here Mustang was, sitting in front of her, his black eyes fixated on her. He was less than pleased. _

_She found herself getting irritated at the illusion in front of her. _It_, because that was _not_ Roy Mustang, doubted her. Its eyes left hers and rested on the gun, narrowing once they did. "You can't use that," it stated matter-of-factly. _

_Riza rolled her eyes at it but didn't say anything in reply. There was no sense in arguing; she'd just be quarreling with herself._

* * *

_They'd taken her again. Sat her down in a chair, bound her hands behind her back and her legs to the chair's legs. Her neck muscles had atrophied to the point where it was difficult holding her head up. One of them stood behind the chair and held her head between his hands, forcing her to look at the interrogator. _

_It was _him _again. This time he wore the mask, concealing his face once again. But she knew it was him by the way he held himself._

_When her eyes met his, he frowned. He opened his mouth and said something, but she didn't hear it. She was too tired; she couldn't focus. Riza closed her eyes and tried tuning them out. She wasn't in the mood for pointless questions today._

_Something jostled her chair, forcing her to open her eyes. The Interrogator's face was inches from hers. He spoke again, implying that he had asked her the question moments before, "You didn't answer me. Have you decided?" his lips curled upward into a sinister grin. _

"_No," she replied flatly._

_His smile disappeared and he stepped back, straightening himself up, his eyes still on her. The Interrogator spoke again, but she honestly didn't listen. The only words she caught were "food" and "alive."_

_The one standing behind her released her head from his grasp, causing it to lull forward. She didn't care. It would be too much effort to try and lift it anyways._

_Once they had untied her hands and ankles, the largest one, whose muscles could rival those of Major Amrstrong's, lifted her up effortlessly and began walking back toward the cramped quarters they kept her in. With every step her head bobbed back and forth, causing a wave of nausea to roll over her. Trying to keep it at bay, she rested her head against his shoulder. He didn't object, so she kept it there._

* * *

_Riza awoke with a start. She was back in that minuscule 3.5 foot by 3.5 foot room again. She didn't even remember falling asleep._

_Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a small silver tray. On it was a small loaf of bread, some crackers, and a canteen. She stared at it for a few moments, hoping to feel some sort of hunger. Instead, she only felt revulsion. _

_If she ever left this place, she wondered if she would ever have an appetite again. _

_If…_

_Her thoughts used to be full of "whens" and "eventuallys." __**When**__ she got out of there… Once she got out of there, she would __**eventually**__… etc., etc._

_Now, she thought only in "ifs." __**If**__ she escaped… __**if**__ she saw the light of day again… __**if**__ she would ever see her comrades again. __**If**__._

_If._

* * *

_Riza gasped, desperately trying to fill her lungs with precious air. However, once her chest expanded to a certain point, the immense pain would prevent her from inhaling further._

_They had come and taken her again, but this time there was no chair and no interrogation. Instead, two of them held her while the Armstrong counterpart drove his fist into her abdomen, again and again. On the sixth and final time, she cried out in pain. She was sure he had broken her ribs._

_When they released her arms, she crumpled to the floor, wheezing heavily, trying to catch her breath. As she struggled, the Interrogator knelt down beside her and, using index and middle fingers, gently guided her chin up so that she was looking him in the eye._

"_So," he said, "I gave you forty-eight hours to decide and since you never told me, I'm going to assume that you have opted to stay here with us." He grinned wickedly and leaned forward, his mouth next to her ear. "You're going to die here," he whispered. "Maybe not today, but soon," he promised. He slowly pulled himself up and said something to them. But she didn't hear what he said; she wasn't listening. She was too busy watching everything in her world burn._

* * *

_Riza had pulled herself into a sitting position in one of the corners of the small cell she was contained in. Every time she took a breath, a sharp, stabbing pain would shoot up her side, but she found that sitting up was infinitely better than lying now. Even now, the pain had dulled considerably, because her thoughts were elsewhere entirely._

_She looked down at the gun in her hands, rotating it and looking at every angle. It was definitely her's. _

_The Interrogator's words were on repeat in her head. _You're going to die here.

_At first, she had been terrified, angry, depressed. She thought for hours about everyone she would leave behind. But now a sense of calm had rushed over her, and she no longer felt at all. It was identical to her time in Ishval. Turn off the emotions, aim, pull the trigger. _

_She would be her last victim._

_As she began to lift it, a gloved hand with a familiar array set itself down on top of it. She narrowed her eyes and followed the arm it was connected to up to its owner. _

_Roy Mustang peered back, a look of pure hopelessness on his face._

_She felt a ting of pain in her chest, but it quickly passed, numbing her once more. _

"_Please…" the apparition begged, its eyes holding her stare, "Don't do this…"_

_Riza shook her head slowly. It was only a part of her subconscious. Deep down, she was frightened and it was here only to remind her of the most basic human fear: dying. It knew what the Interrogator had said: She'd die here._

_It begged her to reconsider._

_She said no._

_It asked her to hold on for a while longer._

_No._

_Her subconscious was losing the battle. She could see it in its eyes. Its grip on the gun was loosening._

"_What about him?" it asked quietly, using the last weapon in its arsenal. _

_The question barely grazed her. The real General would forgive her. Right? _

_Right?_

_Right._

_She just had to rationalize it in her mind. If he were in a similar situation (not that she would have ever let that happen), she'd forgive him… in time. _

_They had given her a chance, an opportunity to escape._

_She would die on _her_ terms… not theirs._

_She lifted the gun and pressed the muzzle to her head…_

_And pulled the trigger._

_..._

_The gun responded with a benign _click_._

_She tried again._

Click.

Click.

Click.

Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.

_Riza's grip on the gun loosened and it slipped from her hand, clattering to the ground uselessly. Hey eyes widened with realization._

_It was empty._

_It was weighted… and it was empty…_

_They had tricked her. Gotten her down to her lowest, weakest point and built her up her hopes of escape. Then they mercilessly dashed them._

_She _was_ going to die there… and it would be on their terms._

* * *

Roy was finally back at the hospital and couldn't be more relieved.

As he strode through the hallways, he couldn't help but recall his brief encounter with Edward.

He was thankful that the boy didn't answer. Because, honestly, he didn't even know what to say to him. And maybe it was the same for the former alchemist.

Their relationship these past few months had been rocky; all of it beginning on that day.

Roy had expected it to turn out differently. Edward had been invited there for a surprise, a celebration of everything he had done for Amestris.

Nothing turned out the way they had planned. Nothing.

He knew that he had to face Edward again.

Finally, he came upon Riza's room. As he quietly walked in, being careful to not walk too heavily, he decided internally that he would try and take the next few hours while Riza slept to come up with what he would say to the boy.

When he found his chair and pulled it up next to her bed, he fell back into it, closed his eyes, and ran his fingers through his raven-black hair. He looked up wearily at the clock, seeing that it was only 1:15a.m. It was going to be a long night.

He covered his face with his hands and slowly dragged his fingers down his face, sighing as he did so. When he opened his eyes, he stopped when he focused on Riza.

Something was wrong. Horribly wrong.

Any color that she had regained was completely gone from her now pallid face. Her eyes were moving rapidly beneath her eyelids; her breaths coming out as shallow and labored gasps.

He instinctively reached out and grabbed her hand in his, placing his free hand on her forehead. She was drenched in sweat, and her forehead was burning.

Roy looked up desperately, looking for any signs of a nurse passing by. When he didn't see one, he jumped up and raced to the door. He poked his head out and called for a nurse. Moments later, two rushed around the corner. He beckoned them into the room and expeditiously explained to them the situation.

The two nurses quickly rushed to both sides of the bed. After surveying Riza for a few moments, the one that knelt down in front of her frantically told the other to find the nearest doctor.

As the second nurse rushed out, Roy immediately dropped to his knees next to the attending nurse and grabbed Riza's hand in his own, ignoring the nurse's urging that he restrain himself.

The physical contact barely fazed her; she was trembling far too much to notice.

Suddenly, Roy heard something. Something she had murmured in her restless stupor.

He leaned closer, his ear mere inches from her mouth.

He felt the blood drain from his face. His heart practically stopped beating.

Those words… Something he never dreamed she would utter.

Those words that would haunt him for nights to come.

Those two, seemingly simple words…

_Kill me._

* * *

**I have no idea how I managed to get this out today, but I did. It has been a crazy first week of classes. They are trying to cram so much information into our skulls that it's ridiculous… 20 credits can really kill you. But it's totally worth it.**

**Fun science-y fact for the day (since I have a Neurology course): Flashbacks are primarily attributed to these sections of the brain: the medial temporal lobes, the precuneus, the posterior cingulate gyrus, and the prefrontal cortex. They are the "personal experiences that pop into your awareness, without any conscious, premeditated attempt to search and retrieve this memory." Many people that suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder have flashbacks can even have flashbacks that disrupt day-to-day living. They can also occur in the form of dreams.**

**Also, sensory deprivation can easily cause hallucinations, mostly consisting of faces that aren't there, hearing noises that were never made, or sensing an evil presence.**

**So… Science. The more you know!**

**But… was that just a dream? Or a flashback? Since there is kind of a difference in this context. Hint: It **_**could**_** be taken out of context…**

…**.**

**A bit of a dark chapter this was (I originally never intended to write this, but kind of wanted to try out a darker-type of writing; so, this chapter was born). Then again, the story itself kind of has a dark tone. I am hoping that I wrote Riza as in character as possible. But then again, it's always difficult trying to gauge how a character will react in unique situations, so I tried to show a small timeline and progressive steps in her thinking (understanding that six weeks being held captive and sensory deprivation (which can be used positively or negatively – Wiki that!) would factor into her thought process). Also, I was ****so close**** to making the "apparition" Edward, but thought better of it. Because in the end, no matter what, I think Riza will always think of Roy, consciously or subconsciously.**

**And if it seems like Riza is bouncing back and forth between giving up and moving forward, there is a reason for that which will come to light as the story progresses. I haven't forgotten "Eyes of Wrath" and "Toy Dog." And speaking of "Toy Dog," that chapter has the 3****rd**** highest number of views, so you guys must really like the chapter (or are skipping chapters to get to Royai fluff, which I don't recommend! Haha). Well, it was my favorite chapter to write so far.**

**Anyways, the next chapter will wrap up the end of this one (because who doesn't love cliffhangers?) and will continue on with the storyline. We will hear from Rodin again, and another important character (aka a canon character) will show up toward the end. I'll also try to throw some humor in there, because this was a depressing chapter.**

**I know that I said we would find out what Riza isn't telling Roy this chapter. It is slightly implied here, but not fully typed out. That will come next chapter (she'll actually speak to him). So, lots to explain next time!**

**It's looking like you will find out what exactly Edward feels guilty about in Chapter 11, which I'm going to name "Simple Orders."**

**I haven't decided on a name yet for Chapter 10. Once I've written parts of it, I will be able to name it.**

**Finally, thank you everyone for the feedback, favorites, and follows! **_**Pressure Point**_** has officially passed the 50 follower line. So, thank you!**


	10. Forgiveness

**Quick A/N: Remember, **_"text like this" _**when Roy is with Riza means that he is communicating with her via the code they invented when they were younger. More A/N at the end as well (concerning _Pressure Point_, a possible new story, and a one-shot I have planned).**

**In response to freebird2992's question: "**you really stay loyal to the whole 'edge of your seat' writing don't you?"

**Yes. Yes I do. ;P (And thank you for the review, along with everyone else's; I just had to answer this one!) I will try to respond to reviews on here from now on. But really, thank you to everyone, because I do read them!**

* * *

Sighing, Roy tried to will away the pain, pinching the bridge of his nose and leaning forward, pressing a blood soaked tissue to his nose with his free hand.

He should have learned the first time: Don't surprise Riza. Ever.

The nurses had warned him to wake Riza from her night terror slowly, but even his most cautious, snail-paced attempt wasn't enough.

As soon as he had grabbed her hand, she woke up, startled, and pulled her hand from his. In one swift motion, she managed to lash out at him, striking him in the nose with the palm of her hand.

Dr. Marcoh assured him that nothing was broken, but he wasn't concerned about himself.

The doctor explained that spikes in body temperature after surgical procedures were one of the most common complications. He noted that high fevers could disrupt the sleep cycle, causing vivid and lifelike dreams. The fact did nothing to comfort him, however. Roy was more concerned about what she had been dreaming and what had transpired through the dream. How long had she been sleeping like that? Did her nightmare start after he had left?

"I'm sorry."

He looked up upon hearing her voice, his eyes softening when he laid them on her. It was at least the sixth time she had apologized in the past couple of minutes.

Riza was sitting upright slightly, being supported by the elevated bed. She was staring down at her lap, her right arm lying across her abdomen. From this angle, he could tell just how thin she was now. He noted that her clothes hung loosely off of her body, akin to that of a child wearing an adult's clothing. The observation made him feel sick to his stomach.

He reached forward and gently took her arm in his hand, guiding her hand toward him and ignoring the flinch she responded with. He adjusted slowly and took her hand in between his. He wanted to get the point across that he was okay, because she didn't seem to believe it.

"_I'm fine. Really,"_ he tapped out in their code.

She shook her head slowly and spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, "I gave up."

He stopped, perplexed. _"What do you-"_

"I gave up!" she exclaimed, her voice cracking. Eyes still staring down at her lap, she took a shaky breath, trying her best to calm herself, but to no avail. "They gave me my gun. I-I was going to use it. They said I'd die there. I-"

"_Stop."_

But she kept going, babbling incoherently. Or maybe to him it was unintelligible; because his mind was racing at an unbelievable rate. He managed to catch the phrases "wasted time" and "would have been pointless."

Wasted time? Pointless? Was that what she thought? That she had been a burden? A pointless, worthless effort?

He slid off the chair and sat on the edge of her bed. Reaching behind her with his left arm, and in front of her with his right, Roy pulled her into an embrace, snapping her out of her hysteria.

"_Stop. Do not ever say you are pointless."_

She quickly recovered, though her shoulders were shaking now. "Sir-"

"_Please," _he begged, _"Stop. You are too important."_

"But, sir-"

"_I forgive you,"_ he interjected.

He knew that the only way she'd forgive herself was if he would "forgive" her. In reality, there was nothing that she had done that needed forgiveness. But if that was what she wanted, then he'd forgive her a thousand times and more. Because what she didn't realize was that she had been far stronger than he.

She fell silent when she had deciphered what he tapped on her shoulder. Leaning her body into his, she rested her head on his shoulder and beneath his jaw, murmuring one last time, "I'm sorry."

No. _He _was sorry. Roy remembered when he had given up. He still sought forgiveness.

But he also remembered being saved. Saved from the darkest corners of his mind.

Like her, he had been saved by the Fullmetal Alchemist.

* * *

"Brigadier General Mustang?"

Roy slowly opened his eyes and immediately turned his head to the right, seeing Riza's bed a few feet from his cot.

Shortly after their conversation, she had fallen asleep in his arms. He didn't mind… but the nurses did. After one of them came in for the next round of medications, she scolded him for allowing Riza to remain upright for so long. A brief argument ensued, the subject matter consisting of him letting Riza lie down and about whether or not he would go home. They compromised, allowing him to stay the remainder of the night.

His eyes focused on Riza. She was on her back, her right arm lightly placed atop her abdomen. Her breathing was more regulated now; her breaths long and deep. It appeared that, for the moment, she was at peace. No more nightmares.

"Sir?"

He jumped, unaware of the nurse standing to his left. Had she been the one that woke him up? He turned slightly and tore his stare away from Riza to focus on the woman.

"Sorry to wake you, sir, but you have a phone call."

_Phone call? _He watched her, slightly annoyed, waiting for her to elaborate further.

"It's urgent, sir," the nurse followed up quickly. "From a Lieutenant Colonel Rodin."

"Alright, thank you," he replied, slowly lowering his feet to the ground and turning his focus back on Riza. She was still sleeping.

Reluctantly, he stood and allowed the nurse to usher him to the door. After her countless reassurances that she would be there while he was gone, he finally stepped into the hallway and let her escort him to the nearest phone. Once she had gestured to the correct phone, he watched as she quickly whirled around and disappeared around the corner, heading back in the direction they had come.

He picked up the receiver and held it to his ear. "Hello?"

"_Hello, General,"_ Rodin responded quickly.

Roy frowned, noting that for once the Lieutenant Colonel had remembered his formalities.

"_I won't be able to talk long, but I wanted to give you an update,"_ the Lieutenant Colonel continued. _"I'm calling from a train line. We're heading back to Central and-."_

"What?!" Roy interjected, his response harsh.

"_I tried calling you earlier, sir, but I couldn't get ahold of the hospital. I received a memo this morning stating that I need to be back in Central tomorrow for a meeting and, unfortunately, the only train leaving between now and then was this one._

"_We just stopped at the Resembool station, so we should be arriving in Central in about seven hours."_

"I thought this case took precedence, Lieutenant Colonel," Roy growled through his clenched teeth.

"_It does, sir, and right now being back in Central is the best we can do right now. The sandstorm that picked up yesterday still hasn't died down, so we wouldn't have been able to go out today even if we wanted to._

"_We collected most of what we wanted yesterday, so my team and I will analyze it once we get back to Central._

"_I know that this isn't what you wanted to hear, General Mustang, but I do plan on making the most out of this situation. For example, is Edward Elric there in Central?"_

"Yes," the General shot back. "Why?"

"_I need to speak with him again. He was the only one that potentially saw our suspects, and I need to see if he recalls any more details," _Rodin replied quietly, sensing the General's displeasure.

"You already got his statement ten weeks ago. Do you honestly believe that he would remember anything else after all this time," Roy stated bitterly.

"_I think he could, sir."_

"Fine," Roy replied shortly. Despite his anger, he knew that what was done was done. They were already on the train and heading back. "Let me know as soon as you arrive."

"_Yes, sir," _the Lieutenant Colonel responded submissively.

Without another word, the General slammed the receiver down and turned away from the phone. Sure, he knew that what was done was done, but he was still allowed the right to be upset. As far as he was concerned, every moment that passed allowed the perpetrators another moment to flee, hide, or do more harm. The "evidence" that Rodin would present him had better justify his actions…

When he rounded the corner, he saw the same nurse that woke him quietly beckoning him toward her.

Heart racing, he rushed forward and to her side.

Seeing his look of concern, she shook her head gently and shot him a small smile. "I just wanted to let you know that I finished everything I needed to do."

He nodded and thanked her, calming his rapidly beating heart.

She smiled once last time before stepping around him and walking away from him and down the hall.

He turned back and stepped through the doorframe, making a beeline for his seat next to Riza's bedside, which he was convinced already have a permanent indentation from him already.

As soon as he slid into his seat, she opened her eyes and furrowed her brow. She still couldn't see him.

He took her hand in his and felt her usual flinch. Slowly he tapped out a quick "good morning," instantly putting her at ease. _"Are you in pain?"_ he followed up.

She shook her head slowly and asked about his nose.

He smiled slightly as he informed her that he was feeling better, when in reality his nose and cheeks were bruised. But she didn't need to know those "minor" details.

He quickly followed up by tapping out small updates on their team members, trying to keep her mind off of anything that would distress her.

Roy told her about Havoc and his eleventh attempt to quit smoking. He told her about how Breda and how he had finally beaten Roy in a game of chess. Falman had memorized every detail of the plans laid out for the rebuilding, and Fuery and Sheska were "talking."

She seemed happy about the update, but Roy still noticed that something was bothering her.

Before he had the chance to ask, however, she spoke, "And Edward…"

Roy was taken aback by her comment, but quickly recovered. _Why Edward? Oh... he was the last person she saw._ He should have started his update with the boy.

"_He is fine," _Mustang simply replied. He knew that if he told her that the boy had stayed in Ishval and left his brother behind in Resembool, she'd feel guilty for separating the two. She shouldn't have to add that to her list of worries.

Thankfully she didn't ask, instead replying with a small nod.

Soon after that she fell asleep, leaving Roy alone with his thoughts. He knew exactly what he would say to the boy when he saw him next. But first, he decided, he would sit through Edward's second report.

He needed to hear it for himself.

* * *

"General?"

Roy opened his eyes partly and glanced to his right, realizing that he had fallen asleep in his chair.

The nurse smiled and gave him a small wave. "Sir, there is a Lieutenant Colonel Rodin here to see you."

His eyes shot open and he glanced at the clock on the wall. It was 5:00p.m. He had slept at least four hours. As he stood and stretched, he glanced at Riza, noting that she was still sleeping. He'd make this conversation with the Colonel short.

After following the nurse out of the room, Roy turned down a few hallways and finally came upon the waiting area. He instantly saw Rodin… and his entourage.

Standing to the right of the Lieutenant Colonel was Lieutenant Falman. Upon seeing his superior officer, the gray-haired man nodded and saluted. Roy threw the Lieutenant a sloppy salute; because he was too busy eyeing the person to the left of Rodin.

Winry Rockbell stood beside the Lieutenant Colonel, a large red duffel bag tossed over her shoulder and a smaller, black one sitting next to her. If Roy hadn't done a double-take, he almost wouldn't have recognized the girl. Her hair, normally thrown up in a ponytail, was down, cascading over her shoulders and back. Since he had last seen her she had grown a couple of inches as well, though her growth spurt was nothing compared to Edward's. Her blue eyes were watching him, studying him.

Why was she there?

Colonel Rodin stepped forward and saluted Roy, his usually happy demeanor masked by his look of concern. "Are you alright, sir?" he asked, reaching up and touching his own face, mirroring Mustang's.

Roy suddenly remembered that half of his face was one large bruise. Reaching up and rubbing his cheek, he murmured, "Yes. Just a small accident."

Seeming to accept the General's brief explanation, the Lieutenant Colonel continued, "I hope you don't mind, sir, but I brought Miss Rockbell along," he gestured to the girl standing just behind him. "Coincidentally she was on the same train as us and she recognized Lieutenant Falman. Since we were all heading in the same direction, we gave her a ride."

Roy nodded and glanced at Winry. "Hello Miss Rockbell. I'm assuming you're looking for Edward?"

Winry slowly nodded in reply, her blue eyes watching the General intently. "Is he here?"

"Unfortunately, he's not," Roy replied shortly.

"Oh… okay," she responded, casting her eyes downward.

Upon seeing her look of disappointment, he changed his tone, his words softer. "You're here to fix his automail leg," he nodded toward the black duffel bag next to her. "I can take you to him."

She looked up. "A-are you sure?" She raised her hands slightly and waved them back and forth, "If it's too much trouble, I can come back later. Or I can-"

"It's fine," Roy cut in, trying his best to flash her a small, sincere smile. "He's having some trouble moving around, so I'm sure he'd be eager to have you look at it." He turned to Lieutenant Colonel Rodin, "I'll be right back; I'm just going to grab a few things."

After Roy had turned and made it to the doorframe separating the waiting area with the rest of the hospital, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to face Rodin.

"Sir, I'm going to need to speak with Edward tonight. That meeting I have tomorrow is with my advisor. It would be nice to have everything laid out for him tomorrow; this second statement would be a great addition to the evidence I have."

"Understood," Roy responded. He hoped that Edward had pulled himself together enough to give the statement, but regardless, there wasn't much time. It had to be tonight.

"Is there anything you need from me?" Roy asked.

The Lieutenant Colonel shook his head. "No. And while a statement from Lieutenant Hawkeye would be invaluable, I know that in her condition it is going to be a while before I get one."

Roy raised his eyebrows. How did he know about her condition? He didn't remember telling the man anything.

As if he had read the General's mind, the Lieutenant Colonel answered, "I talked to one of the attending physicians earlier before I spoke with you. I figured you wouldn't be up to providing details, so I went ahead and asked the doctor himself."

That made sense.

"Alright. I'll be back."

* * *

Roy knelt down next to Riza's bed and gently took her hand in his.

She opened her eyes wearily and stared toward him.

"_I have to leave for a little while," _he explained. _"I promise I will be back soon."_

She nodded indolently, trying her best to keep her eyes open. Roy noted that the additional sleep medication Dr. Marcoh had prescribed was probably the culprit. She'd probably sleep the entire time he was gone. At least she would be too tired to have nightmares.

He waited until she closed her eyes again. When she did, he quietly gathered his things and made his way to the door. He cast one final glance over his shoulder toward her before walking through it and down the hallway.

* * *

Edward had finally come to terms with the fact that he and Mustang were going to talk. It was inevitable.

After coming to that conclusion, Edward allowed himself to" relax," to an extent, even going as far as making himself some canned soup he had found in one of the cupboards; though he quickly cleaned up the evidence that he had even been in the kitchen.

Now he was sitting on the couch, trying to focus on the book in his lap. Even though he had convinced himself that he was relaxed, he still nervously bounced his knee up and down, moving the book along with it.

He had run over a plethora of situations in his head that ranged from the two talking civilly to Mustang simply walking through the door, snapping his fingers, and setting Edward on fire. He sometimes found himself thinking that the latter option would be less painful.

Sure, he had come to terms with it, but that didn't mean he was ready. He would never be prepared. Because he would never be ready to look Mustang straight in the eyes and tell him that he had screwed up, almost costing the man everything that he held dear.

Edward couldn't ask for forgiveness, not now; because he never once felt that he deserved it.

The sound of keys in the door's lock jolted him from his thoughts. He swallowed the lump in his throat and slowly closed the book in his lap.

He wasn't ready.

He wasn't ready!

Edward flinched as the door swung open, revealing not one, but three silhouettes.

Yes, Edward had finally come to terms with the fact that he and Mustang were going to talk. What he didn't anticipate, however, was having an audience.

* * *

**A/N: For some reason this chapter was difficult for me to write! I think it's because I wanted to write "Simple Orders" (the next chapter) more than this one. So I hope it wasn't too scattered or fast-paced and I hope that the quality of writing is still there (please let me know if it isn't). **

**In case you were wondering on a few things:**

**First, if you're wondering why Riza hasn't tried to discuss her condition with Roy, I'm assuming that she doesn't want to talk about it yet. So far, she has been very selective with what she has spoken to Roy about and what she wants to be told. Not exactly denial, though.**

**Second, I know that I called Edward "the Fullmetal Alchemist." He isn't an alchemist anymore, but I thought that sounded better than saying "Edward Elric." Plus, I like to believe that Roy still thinks of him as the Fullmetal Alchemist.**

**Third, if you're wondering why Roy didn't hear Edward's statement the first time, I'm going to say it is because he probably would have interrupted too many times with condescending comments. Plus, the conversation should be between the investigator and the witness and not with an emotionally-compromised victim.**

**Now, I'm hoping to get "Simple Orders" out sometime in the next week or two, because I will have exams starting the week after next, and will be having six exams in the span of three weeks (so I will be very busy; no promises!). So if you thought this chapter was sloppy, I promise the next one won't be. It's been mapped out in my head since the beginning and it is the turning point of the story.**

* * *

**On one final note, I am thinking of writing another story. The idea came to me at around 4 in the morning a few mornings ago because, for whatever reason, I couldn't sleep. After falling asleep and waking up, I still decided that it wasn't a 100% completely stupid idea, so we will see.**

**Before I give you a brief synopsis, this would be my list of priorities: School, studying, social life, **_**Pressure Point**_**, and other story. Maybe I will have some eating and sleeping thrown in there somewhere too. The only reason why I'd want to write another story is because when I do have time to write and am stuck on **_**Pressure Point**_**, I can at least write about something (besides studying).**

**Short synopsis: After a horrific discovery, Edward and Mustang race against the clock to try and make things right, while Riza struggles with the notion of what it truly means to be human. **

**Long synopsis: Yes, it's a Chimera! fic. Actually, I really don't like those fanfictions that much, but for some reason I got a prompt I saw a long time ago stuck in my head (and I wanted a challenge). I don't know why. But anyways… I don't mean to victimize Riza so often! Honestly, I think she's one of the strongest characters in the show, having never once played the victim. But I do like testing her boundaries and Roy's (I admit it. I mostly do because I **_**do **_**like making Roy squirm… sorry).**

**So, it would probably be called "Humanity" and would be Suspense/Drama with the following pairings/relationships: Royai, Parental!RoyEd (does that count if Edward and Roy are working together? If so, then yes, Parental!RoyEd. If not, a lot of Roy and Ed interactions (kind of like **_**Pressure Point**_**)), EdWin (it's 5 years in the future, so they're married), and AlMei eventually. What it wouldn't include: fetish-y things, because that's not my style. Finally, updates would be sporadic, unlike this story, which I try to get out on a schedule. **

**So anyways, I would appreciate feedback on that aspect. Would anyone actually read? PM me or, if you review **_**Pressure Point**_**, you can write a short blurb on that (but please don't make a review simply for replying to this, since the reviews are for **_**Pressure Point**_**). I have set up a poll as well, so vote if you'd like for feedback purposes (on top of my page). **

**If I get enough responses or interest, I might add a "taster" half of a chapter to the end of "Simple Orders" because I did envision that in my head already. **

* * *

**Also, be on the lookout for a Parental!RoyEd one-shot from me in the next few days. That too just popped into my head (I just need to finish fleshing it out).**

* * *

**Finally, thank you for the reviews, favorites, and follows! I really do appreciate it and I read each one (but I just don't have time to respond, but I will try)!**

**I swear, my A/Ns are getting as long as the chapters… Sorry!**


	11. Simple Orders

He didn't want to talk.

Not with an audience. Not with _Mustang_ there.

But they needed another report by tomorrow…

Winry had scooted over next to him on the couch and had taken his hand in hers, squeezing it reassuringly. Her small, comforting smile eased the unbearable tension in his chest.

He had no choice.

He needed to talk again. To tell them what happened.

To tell them about his failure.

* * *

_Edward sat idly as the train rattled onward, watching as the landscape slowly transitioned from one filled with green, lush trees to a barren and sandy one. He could already feel his automail beginning to warm up. The blisters that would soon follow from the constant metal-on-skin contact were inevitable. And, of course, the region was currently in a state of drought, with temperatures reported near 115 degrees Fahrenheit the past few weeks, and there were no signs of it decreasing anytime soon._

_He could feel his mood souring by the second._

_Why did he even need to _go_ in the first place? It's not like he was important to the rebuilding of Ishval._

_For the past two months, Colonel Bastard – oh wait, _General Bastard _– had been nagging for him to go out there. Something about diplomatic relations or whatever. Finally Edward gave in to his constant haranguing. The sooner he could get the trip over with, the sooner he could go home to Alphonse and Winry and Granny. And the sooner he could leave Mustang and the military behind._

_He patted his pocket, confirming for the eleventh time that the papers were still there. _

_His letters of resignation. _

_In a few short days, he would no longer be a dog of the military. He'd finally be free to live his life without worrying about being called to duty again._

_Underneath it all, however, Edward knew his ulterior motive for leaving the military._

_After he had caught wind that Mustang had used a Philosopher's Stone to regain his sight, he was livid. What right did he have to use all of those souls, all of those lives, for his gain? Apparently Dr. Marcoh had offered it to him on the condition that Mustang help rebuild Ishval. _

_Deep down Edward knew that what was done was done. Mustang used a Philosopher's Stone to regain his sight. He could see again. He was in Ishval now. What was done was done._

_Still, Edward couldn't help but feel bitter. He and Al had spent _years_ trying to find ways to restore their bodies… and they hadn't even used a Philosopher's Stone to do so. Sure, he had been forced, but there had to be another way. Using the Philosopher's Stone without even spending an iota of time searching for other options was what really pushed him over the edge._

_Edward pushed the thoughts out of his head. He didn't want to think about it anymore. _

_Just endure two days there and he could go home._

_All Edward knew was that his leg was beginning to hurt. He did _not _want to leave Al. He did _not _want to go to Ishval._

_And more than anything, he did _NOT _want to see Mustang._

* * *

_As soon as Edward stepped off the train, he heard his name shouted out. Turning toward the source of the noise, he saw Mustang, a slight smirk on his face, and Hawkeye standing just a few hundred meters away. _

_Both of them were there. Just like Mustang had said they would be._

_As Edward neared them, a small voice in the back of his head encouraged him to tell Mustang to wipe that stupid smirk off of his face, but he quickly pushed it away. _

_Just two days and it'd be over. _

_After the three had exchanged pleasantries they began making their way through the small town of Turlorn. As they walked, Edward realized that there really wasn't too much to the town. It had maybe one thousand people tops. A far cry from the populous Central City._

_Mustang would occasionally point out a landmark or building and explain its significance or excitedly mention what their plans were for it. So far, there were plans to renovate a glassmaking factory, revitalize the suffering wheat growing industry, and rebuild countless temples that were destroyed during the Ishvalan war._

_A few other plans were mentioned as they continued to walk, but Edward soon found himself not paying any attention to the older man. Instead, his focus was on his aching leg; he had realized that he was limping._

_The ever observant Hawk's Eye noticed as well. He could feel her concerned eyes on him._

_Not feeling overly explanatory today, Edward kept his eyes focused forward and slightly downturned, staring at the ground ahead of him. _Just two more days…

* * *

_Once they had reached Mustang's modest, and extremely stuffy, office Edward slumped into the closest chair he could find, stretching his legs out as far as he could. If he didn't move from that spot for the next forty-eight hours, he'd be happy._

_At that moment, it was just Mustang and him in the room. Hawkeye had run downstairs to pick up something the bastard had requested. Like always._

_He scanned the office, noticing that there were only four desks instead of the usual six that Mustang always had. He had forgotten that Breda was still in the West while Falman was still stationed in the North. Two of the desks, at that time empty, most likely belonged to Fuery and the recently reinstated Havoc._

_He secretly hoped that he would see them the next day. Unlike Mustang, he admittedly, and ever so slightly, missed them._

_Edward was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard his name. Looking up, he saw that Mustang's dark eyes were on him._

"_Did you hear me?" the General asked, a tinge of irritation in his voice._

"_Sorry," Edward mumbled, "I missed it."_

"_I asked that you accompany Lieutenant Hawkeye for a mail drop."_

_Edward remembered passing the post office a few minutes before they had arrived at the military headquarters. That meant going back out into that blazing heat. _Damn…

_Why did he even need to go? Hawkeye always did mail drops alone in Central. What was the big deal? And why couldn't the bastard just go?_

_As if Mustang had read his mind, the man gestured to the stack of papers in front of him and continued, "I have to get these papers in by five and I can't go."_

_Just as Edward opened his mouth to ask why he going was even necessary, Mustang bluntly answered his question, his eyes now focused on the paper in his hand, "It's required that all military personnel remain in pairs of two or more for security reasons."_

_Security? Yeah, like Hawkeye even _needed_ a bodyguard. But whatever…_

"_And afterwards," Mustang looked up again at the boy, "I thought it'd be nice if we grabbed some dinner. There's a small restaurant around the corner."_

_Edward shrugged. "Yeah, sure," he replied halfheartedly. _

"_And while we're there, I would like to discuss your future endeavors regarding your military status."_

_Edward felt a pang of annoyance, but said nothing. No matter what Mustang would say, he wouldn't change his mind. He was going to leave the military behind and that was final. But hell, he'll humor the bastard for a couple of days._

_Seeming to (finally) notice the boy's lack of enthusiasm, Mustang lowered his voice, his tone serious, "I mean it Edward. You are to remain with Lieutenant Hawkeye at all times. That's an order."_

_Oh! So now he was ordering him around again. Edward could feel his agitation bubbling toward the surface, threatening to spill over the edge. He resisted the urge to make a snarky comment back, instead opting to shrug again, "Yeah, yeah; I know. Simple orders."_

_Just as Mustang opened his mouth to reply, Hawkeye reappeared in the doorframe, carrying a small package and a couple of letters in her hands._

_Edward quickly jumped off of the couch and made his way over to her, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he went, grasping the folded up papers in one of his hands._

_She flashed a small smile toward the boy before looking past him at Mustang. "Anything else, sir?"_

"_No," the General shook his head before letting his eyes wander to and meet Edward's. "Just simple orders."_

* * *

_As Edward and Hawkeye made their way to the post office, Edward couldn't help but notice the variety of people that greeted them. Some people smiled and saluted. Others gave them a small wave or a friendly 'hello.' And each time Hawkeye would respond with a small nod, a light wave, or a 'hello' back to them._

_Yeah. Safety was a _real_ issue here. Mustang was just paranoid._

_After a few more moments of walking in silence, Edward noticed that Hawkeye had begun to slow her pace, matching her stride with his. _

_When the pair was walking side by side, Hawkeye shot him a look of concern. "Are you alright, Edward?"_

"_Yeah, I'm fine," he replied shortly. In reality, he wasn't. The hot pain on his thigh had become almost unbearable. He could feel his skin developing fever blisters. He just wanted to get this mail drop over with so they could go back._

_She nodded, probably deciding that it was best to not probe the young boy further._

_Soon, though, she broke the silence again. Keeping her eyes forward, she continued, "Edward, I know you aren't happy about the General's decision regarding the Stone, but please understand _why _he did it." _

_He felt a sharp jab of annoyance. She was just trying to justify that bastard's actions. Couldn't she just think for herself for once?_

"_Please understand that-"_

"_Yeah, I get it," he replied sharply as another burst of pain shot through his left leg. "I really don't want to talk about it."_

_If she showed any signs of hurt or surprise, it passed too quickly for Edward to notice. On one hand, he was relieved. Maybe he hadn't been too harsh? On the other hand, however, he felt slightly agitated. _Could she for once show on her face what she's thinking or feeling?

_They continued walking for a few more minutes, each step becoming more agitating and painfully reminding Edward of the large hunk of metal mounted on his leg. When the hell were they going to get there?_

_As if his thoughts were answered, Hawkeye suddenly stopped under a canopy they had been walking under. The temperature underneath it was at least ten degrees cooler, just slightly alleviating the pain in Edward's left leg._

_Hawkeye gestured to the storefront they stood in front of. "Well, here we are," she noted as she began to reach for the door handle. However, upon realizing Edward was not following, she turned and eyed the boy._

"_I think I'm just going to stick around out here," he said, replying to her gaze._

"_Edward-"_

"_I'm fine, Hawkeye," he replied bluntly. _

_Upon seeing her concern, he quickly changed his tone, trying his best to cover any hint of pain or annoyance. "My leg's just acting up and I really need to sit down." That was partially the truth. _

_Edward leaned against the wall and slowly slid down it until he was seated on the ground. Looking back up at her, he said, "I'll just be right here." He didn't waiver; holding firm in his decision._

_She sighed before turning back toward the door. "Alright. Please remain here."_

Hah. Easy enough.

_He nodded in reply as she entered the post office and went to stand in line._

_After a few minutes passed, Edward peered in through the windows, noticing that Hawkeye had only advanced two places in the line. This was taking forever. _

_Edward slumped against the wall, raising his left leg slightly, and easing the pain he was beginning to feel again._

_Suddenly, Edward heard a loud _pop_ followed by screaming and cheering. He turned toward a nearby alleyway and saw a large crowd that had gathered at the end of it._

_Rotating back to the storefront, he noticed that no one, not even Hawkeye, had paid any heed to the noise._

_Ignoring the pain in his leg, Edward advanced down the narrow alleyway, deciding to briefly investigate. It would just take one minute._

_After all, one minute wouldn't kill her._

* * *

_Upon exiting the alleyway, Edward found himself immersed in a crowd of excited, cheering Ishvalans. He slowly made his way through the crowd until he made it to the front. A steady stream of colorfully decorated Isvhalans were dancing past, waving lanterns and setting off poppers._

_Most likely seeing Edward's perplexed expression, the man next to him turned and smiled, speaking loudly over the noise, "It's our festival to celebrate the rebirth of Ishval!"_

_Edward nodded and turned back to the parade, a feeling of awe swelling inside of him. Despite everything that had happened to them, the Ishvalan people were still so hopeful and full of life. It was incredible…_

_Suddenly, a young girl, no older than eight or nine years old, separated herself from the parade and danced over to Edward, taking his hand in hers and pulling him into the stream of people. Once they had made it to the center of the road, she grabbed his other hand in hers and began dancing in a circle and smiling. He shot her a grin back and followed her lead, spinning along with her. He could hear the crowd hooting and cheering around them as they made their way down the road._

_After spinning for another one hundred feet or so, the young girl navigated them back to the side of the road and near the crowd. She let go and excitedly thanked him, pulling one of the beaded necklaces from around her neck and offering it to him. He took it from her and nodded appreciatively, flashing her a small smile. She grinned back before skipping a few rows down and pulling another young girl from the crowd and repeating the process._

_He watched after them for a few moments. Yeah… the Ishvalan people were incredible._

_He quickly snapped back from his thoughts, however, when he realized that he needed to be back at the post office. Pushing his way through the crowd, Edward found the alleyway and darted down it, ignoring the pain in his automail leg._

* * *

_Edward hurriedly made his way back to the post office, only to find that Hawkeye was no longer there._

Great. She's probably halfway to the military headquarters by now. _Mustang was going to have a fit._

_Still, as he sauntered back toward the headquarters, making sure to take his time, he glanced around into shop windows and small alleyways, hoping to catch sight of the blonde Lieutenant. It shouldn't be too hard; the streets were empty now that the festival was in full swing just a few streets over._

_Up ahead of him, he saw a flash of navy blue disappear into one of the narrower alleys. _

_Hoping to catch up to it, Edward sprinted to and dashed around the corner, only to be knocked to the ground after slamming into something large and hard._

_As he mumbled an apology, Edward raised his eyes to see who, or what, he had run into. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end._

_A mountain of a man stood in front of him, his massive arms crossed over his chest. An assortment of scars crisscrossed his face and bald head, but two of them stood out to Edward immediately: Two battered, ugly scars ran from the corners of his mouth to his ears, giving his lips a Cheshire grin.* _

_A strong urge to run pulsed through Edward, but his limbs had suddenly felt as if they had turned to jelly. _

_Something was off._

_This man was dangerous._

_No doubt sensing Edward's fear, the goliath narrowed his small, black eyes and sneered. "What the hell are you looking at?" he gnarled. _

"_Sorry," Edward replied apologetically. "I'm just looking for someone and I saw your navy shirt, so I thought that-"_

_The man grimaced, "Looking for an Amestrian dog," he spat, referring to the navy uniforms members of the military wore. "Well, you're shit out of luck, 'cause there ain't any here."_

_Edward quickly scrambled to his feet and backed a few steps away, "Okay, thanks," he replied quickly._

_The man took a step threateningly toward Edward before stopping and turning to look down the alleyway behind him, hearing the _slam _of a car door nearby. The goliath grunted and turned back to Edward, the sneer returning to his face. "Best you run along now, _runt_. Wouldn't want to miss your little girl friend, now would ya?"_

"_Right…" Edward took another step back, sizing up the man. That was definitely one fight he couldn't win. Luckily, it appeared that the man was more interested in what was going on behind him. So he'd take his advice and go. "Thanks…"_

_Turning away from the behemoth, Edward dashed out of the alleyway, leaving the now cackling man behind. _

_As he sprinted down the street, he frantically looked through every window and down every side street he ran past. _

_Nothing._

_No blonde hair. No navy uniform. _

_Nothing._

_He slowed as he came upon the military headquarters. He'd report the man he saw to Mustang and Hawkeye once he saw them inside… because they'd __**both**__ be inside. _

_As he reached the door and extended his arm to grasp the handle, he stopped, feeling the blood drain from his face upon realizing something that he had dismissed before._

_He hadn't mentioned to the man that he person he was looking for was a woman._

* * *

_Edward raced down the hallway toward Mustang's office, his pace quickening with each step. She'd be there. _

_She'd be there at her desk and Mustang would be at his. With that stupid look of disapproval on his face. But they'd be there together, nonetheless; like they always were._

_When he turned the corner into Mustang's office, however, she was not there._

_Mustang looked up from his paperwork upon hearing Edward enter, glanced at the clock on the wall, and then eyed Edward curiously. "You two are back early. Are you ready to-"_

"_Is Hawkeye here," Edward cut him off._

_Mustang shot him a confused look, "What do you-"_

"_Look, we got separated at the post office and when I got back she wasn't there. So I looked around for a bit and came back here, since she'd be here and-"_

"_No." It was Mustang's turn to interrupt him. The Flame Alchemist narrowed his eyes and stated bluntly, "She's not here." _

* * *

Edward didn't have to describe what happened after that. Because Mustang already knew.

They had gone up to her room and knocked on the door; but, of course, there was no reply.

Mustang had even fished a solidary key from his pocket and used that to open the door.

Nothing. No one was there, save for Black Hayate.

Gone.

Just like that.

* * *

Edward didn't need to look up to know that Mustang's midnight eyes were on him. He could feel his cold, ruthless stare boring holes in him, threatening to tear through him at any instant. That icy stare had never once left him when he told his tale.

He was waiting for Mustang to lose it. Yell at him, scream; disintegrate him in a waterfall of flame.

Instead, much to his surprise and everyone else's, the Flame Alchemist simply rose and shot the former alchemist one last, chilly look before turning away and exiting the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

**A/N: **Yes, I intentionally ended it there. Because there is going to be a confrontation of sorts between Mustang and Edward next chapter.

Sorry to keep you all waiting! I promise that it wasn't to build up the anticipation for this chapter. A little thing called "Anatomy" consumed my entire life and soul. My life pretty much consisted of Anatomy, other subjects, food, sleep, and _Pressure Point_, with about 99% of my energy put into the first three. But now Anatomy is over with (for now), and I got 4.0s on both my lecture and lab portions, so I was feeling ambitious and completed this chapter.

That being said, if it seems like there are numerous errors or a change in the quality or writing, PLEASE let me know. I **want** this to be a quality story, so if you feel that the quality of my writing has decreased, I would greatly appreciate any input so that I can make appropriate changes. My brain is nearly fried due to this semester!

And I also hope it didn't seem too fast. Because honestly, it happened quickly in my mind. Literally a few hours after Edward arrived in Turlorn.

**Now, a few things:**

If Edward seems a bit OOC, I don't mean to make him that way. On this particular day, he was caught in a bad mood between the stress of leaving Al and Resembool, the dread of having to endure the desert for a few days, and having to see Mustang after he used the Philosopher's Stone. I wanted to write in a time where Edward was angry at Mustang for using the Stone, since Mustang himself mentioned it at the end of the 2009 anime series. Of course, I think in the future Edward would forgive him and they'd remain in contact, but I wanted to write about the time before Edward forgave him.

So now you know why Edward blames himself. One bad day.

Also, he didn't tell them EVERYTHING (like his thoughts about the Philosopher's Stone, etc.), though that will be addressed either next chapter or the chapter after.

Honesty, I think he's blaming himself TOO much, but you'll see in a few chapters why he doesn't exactly deserve to beat himself up. (Because how does Hawkeye feel about all of this?)

The '*' refers to the Cheshire grin, also known as the Chelsea or Glasgow grin. Check it out on Wikipedia sometime! It's pretty much a deformation caused by mutilation of the face (cutting the edges of the lips and extending the cut), often caused by a tortuous technique.

Next, I posted my one-shot a few weeks ago (I was quite ambitious then as well, since it was BA (Before Anatomy)), so for anyone that wants a tug-at-the-heartstrings Parental!RoyEd one-shot, it is called "I Hate You."

Next-nextly, I will not be posting a "taster" half chapter for my next story idea at the end of this chapter because I thought, _the hell with it_, I'm just going to write it and see where it goes (because, you know, I have so much free time). So look for that in the next weekish or so (I hope!).

And finally, new chapters may slow, but I will by no means stop this story (or any other story), unless something crucial happens. Because I need to write sometimes to alleviate stress AND keep up on my grammar and spelling skills (because I tried to spell the word "pouring" the other day and almost failed miserably; thank god for spell-check. But I can totally spell Rhomboideus or Omotransversarius without an issue… go figure). I for one blame the increase of science in my classwork-load and the zero opportunities I have for improving my writing skills.

So writing Fanfiction will suffice… right?

So anyways, enjoy! And thank you to all that have reviewed, favorited, and followed _Pressure Point_! Shout out today goes to **EvilashOtaku17**! Thanks for following since the beginning.

I don't have the next chapter written or titled yet, but it will most likely contain EdWin, Parental!RoyEd, a time-skip of about a week or two (because we need to get this show on the road), a confrontation of sorts between Edward and Mustang, and possibly an explanation for why the military was so "paranoid" about the buddy system (though Mustang might explain in a few chapters… we'll see…)

Again, look for a new chapter in a few weeks and keep an eye out for the first chapter of _Humanity_ somewhere in there… hopefully.


	12. Gone

**A/N: So I felt like I kind of rushed the end of "Simple Orders," so I've done a quick rewrite of it at the beginning of this chapter (with a few more details). Sorry if it did seem rushed! I think I just wanted to get the chapter out (which I should not do next time).**

**More A/N at the bottom.**

* * *

Edward's story slowly tapered off once he had recounted encountering Mustang in his office. He didn't need to say anymore. Mustang already knew what had happened.

He knew that they had gone up to Hawkeye's room and received no reply when they knocked.

He knew that when they opened the door, the only being to greet them was Black Hayate.

And he certainly knew that their efforts at finding her had been fruitless. Because even after banding together with Havoc, Fuery, and a few other military members, there had been no sign of her or the mysterious behemoth Edward had encountered…

By now, the silence in that room was deafening; not a single word had been uttered during Edward's recounting of that day's events. But he could feel their eyes on him. Stares mixed with concern and shock and disbelief.

One set of dark onyx eyes; however, he could feel boring into him. He had almost become accustomed to those ruthless, unforgiving stares.

His eyes rose to meet those and for a few brief moments, there was nothing. No emotion. No words. No breathing. Nothing.

Their gaze was broken when Mustang slowly rose to his feet. Without wavering or even acknowledging that there were others still present in the room, he shot one last, downward look at Edward before turning and opening the door, slamming it behind him.

Almost immediately Edward was at his feet. As he moved toward the door, he was stopped by a tug at his sleeve. Winry's concerned blue eyes gazed into his, begging him to wait. "Ed…"

"I'll be right back," Edward replied hollowly as he pulled away from her grasp. When he made it to the door, he quietly slipped out and closed it behind him.

Roy stopped at the sound of the door creaking closed.

"Mustang, wait-"

"I've heard _enough_, Edward," the General snapped as he glared over his shoulder.

Edward balled his hands into fists. No. Regardless of what Mustang said, he needed to know.

"Just say it," Edward responded after mustering up the courage.

"Say what," the General replied bitterly.

"That I screwed up!" Edward exclaimed as he took a small step forward. "That I couldn't follow the simplest of orders! That you hate me! Just say it, Mustang, because-"

"Hate you? Ha! Don't think you even think for one second that I hate you, Edward," the General turned his gaze back down the hallway that lay before him. "I don't feel loathing or hatred toward you. More than anything, I feel disappointment… Because I thought better of you."

Edward stopped his quiet advancement toward the older man, suddenly feeling as if the wind had been knocked out of him.

Disappointment…

It hurt.

It hurt worse than feeling hated or loathed. Because they had expected something of him and he had let them all down. They had given everything to him: friendship, loyalty, family, love…

He shattered it. Broken it into millions of infinitesimal pieces, with little to no hope of ever putting it back together.

They gave it to him… and this was how he repaid them…

"I'm officially taking you off of this case," the General continued without even giving Edward another glance. "You are to return home to Resembool... And _that_ is an order. Think you can follow it?" Mustang challenged him venomously.

It was then that Edward realized there wasn't anything he could say or do that would change the General's mind. This was it. It was all over…

All he could do now was follow this simple order. It was the very least he could do.

"Okay…" he replied dejectedly.

"Good. Then I will expect you to be gone when I return." And with that the General was gone, vanishing down the hallway without a second glance.

Gone from Edward's sight. Gone from his senses. And now… gone from his life.

Edward turned numbly on his heels and slowly pulled the door to Mustang's apartment open. Inside, the Lieutenant Colonel and Winry were eyeing him cautiously.

Without acknowledging them, he shuffled over to the sofa and grabbed his suitcase, throwing any of his items that were within reach into it.

"Thank you for resubmitting your statement," Rodin quietly spoke.

Edward could feel his eyes on him. _Stop… Just stop!_

"No problem," he replied in a hollow tone. "If you need anything else, just contact me in Resembool."

"Sure, Ed," the Lieutenant Colonel nodded slowly and stood, lingering for a few moments, as if he expected the former alchemist to say something else. When he didn't, Rodin graciously nodded at Winry and softly muttered, "It was nice meeting you," before he grabbed his notepad and silently slipped out of the apartment.

Now it was just Edward and Winry. Allowing the awkward silence to drag on, Edward continued to grab his belongings, stuffing them into any space he could find in his suitcase. The sooner he packed, the sooner they could leave. And the sooner he would be back in Resembool. Because isn't that what he wanted in the first place?

Sure, that's what he had nearly three months ago wanted, but not now. Not on terms like these…

"Ed…" Winry spoke, trying to get his attention. "Are you really coming back home?"

He turned to Winry and tried desperately to smile. He couldn't burden her with his guilt. It wasn't fair… "Yeah… It looks like I am…"

Winry slid off the couch and onto her knees in front of him, wrapping her arms around his neck in one fluid movement.

His shoulders slumped, but he didn't resist. The physical contact… the comfort that she provided was soothing, fighting to quell the demons of guilt he felt in the pit of his stomach. He let his head nod forward onto her shoulder. Even if it was just for one moment… That one moment was all he needed to keep him from cracking.

"Is this really what you want, Ed," she murmured in his ear, finally breaking the silence.

He didn't respond at first, opting to let the resulting silence drag on further. No, it wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to stay, to make amends, to make things better. But he knew that he couldn't. There was no longer anything he could do.

"Yeah," he finally replied. "Let's… let's go home."

* * *

The next week was one that Roy would later describe as an "off week."

Despite having a plethora of information, Lieutenant Colonel Rodin was unable to find anymore leads. Obviously frustrated, and slightly disheartened by this, the Colonel embarked for Turlorn once more, hoping to dig _something _up. But with how much time had passed, it seemed that even he had begun to give up on finding anything.

Roy felt like they had reached a dead end. As much as he wanted them to, things were not getting any better.

Despite the best efforts of Dr. Marcoh, the nurses, and Roy, Riza was not putting on any weight. In fact, over the course of that week, she had somehow managed to lose two pounds. Two pounds she could not afford to lose.

Dr. Marcoh said that it sometimes happens. Her body had been without nourishment for a while, so it would take time to readjust.

But why her? Hadn't she been through enough?

Roy knew that she was trying. Even though she told him she wasn't hungry, she'd try to keep anything they gave her down, though it proved to be difficult. More often than not, she would become ill after even attempting to try what they gave her.

And he knew that she was growing frustrated with herself; frustrated that once menial tasks, such as walking or eating, were laborious.

Roy too found himself disheartened. Not with her, though. Never with her. He was frustrated with himself. Despite staying there and helping with everything he possibly could, he still didn't feel like he was doing enough. Selfish as it was, he wanted to see improvement, to know that her efforts and his were not in vain. But more than anything, he wanted to see that beautiful, rare Riza Hawkeye smile.

It almost seemed like he would never see that smile again.

Because at the end of a long, tumultuous day, when Roy thought that there had been some improvement, she'd slip again after falling asleep.

It was the same thing every night. Shortly after falling asleep, she'd begin to toss and turn more frequently, muttering something under her breath. It would quickly escalate, however, into fits of screaming and crying out, oftentimes begging her invisible aggressors to stop.

As much as he hated to admit it, Roy had gotten accustomed to dealing with these outbursts. He knew how to slowly coax her out of her sleep, successfully avoiding a bruised or broken nose each time. Knew exactly how to hold her when she'd launch herself into his arms. And knew exactly what to do when she'd begin to apologize profusely for waking him, trembling as she did so.

Every time he would secretly pray that she'd remember enough of the nightmare to tell him. But unfortunately, for whatever reason, she could never recall it. He knew enough to never pry; for fear that it would set her back further. So instead of offering comfort in the form of coded messages, he'd remain there for the rest of the night, holding her until she fell asleep again. Because never once after he began holding her did she have her outbursts or fits again.

And if that was all that was needed to chase the nightmares away, then he'd do it for as long as it took.

* * *

After being encouraged over and over again by the hospital staff, Roy begrudgingly went home in order to take a proper shower (rather than using the one in the locker rooms at the hospital) and to get a few fresh pairs of clothes.

Upon opening the door to his apartment, he felt a strange aura shrouding the room. It brought him back to that day over a week ago. What had transpired there. His feelings of anger, hurt, and disappointment flooded his mind once more.

He had thought about it constantly while sitting idly as the nurses did their rounds in Riza's room. The more the thought about it, the more he justified it, deciding that it was the right thing to do. He couldn't keep Edward there any longer. He could tell that the guilt was eating away at the boy. And despite the small, hateful voice in the back of his mind that urged him to continue feeding on the boy's despair, Roy knew that it would only cause hardship for the two of them.

Still, he couldn't help but wonder about how the boy was doing. He hoped that he was reconnecting with his younger brother, Alphonse, after being gone for nearly three months. That was something that Roy allowed himself to feel guilt for. He realized now that he had robbed the brothers of three precious months they could have spent enjoying each other's company in the bodies that they had restored together.

This was better for both of them. They needed this time now to focus on what matters most.

As Roy prepared himself to leave and make his way back to the hospital, he saw the glint of something metallic underneath his couch. Curious as to what it was, he got on his hands and knees and reached under the couch, grasping the object in his hand. After pulling it out, Roy stuffed his other hand into his pocket to confirm that his nearly identical piece was still there. Once he had confirmed that the found object was not his, he felt his hardened eyes soften.

Honestly, Roy had forgotten that he never took the boy's pocket watch after he lost his alchemical abilities. It never seemed that important to take it. To the boy, it was more than just a symbol of military status; it was the object that signified his years of hard work and dedication.

Roy decided that it wouldn't sit well if he ignored it, pretending he didn't have it. Without another thought about the matter, Roy found himself at his phone, mechanically tapping in the phone number to the Rockbell residence. After ringing four times, however, it appeared that no one was home.

Just as Roy was about to hang up, a small _click _on the other end of the line confirmed that someone had picked up. "Hello?"

"Alphonse? This is General Mustang."

"Oh," the younger Elric replied, "Hi General! It's nice hearing from you."

"Thank you, Alphonse. It's nice hearing from you as well," Roy couldn't help but smile slightly. It was still odd not hearing a metallic echo accompanying the boy's voice. "Could I speak with Edward?"

"Oh, um," Alphonse began, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. "He…" his voice trailed off.

"He what?" Roy continued, a feeling of panic rising within him.

"He's… not here."

"Not there? What do you mean he's not there?" The panic began to escalate, but he held his composure, hoping that the following explanation would be a simple one.

"Well…" the younger Elric brother began slowly, "Brother never made it back home."

* * *

**Whew! Finally got this chapter out. I hit my second wind last night around midnight (after spending six hours in the Anatomy lab… that exam tomorrow is going down!). It's a bit shorter than normal, but that's because the next one will be a longer one.**

**Anyways, I hope it didn't seem too disorganized or disjointed in terms of the character's thoughts/feelings. If so, let me know (because the sequence made sense to me. But then again, I have all of the thoughts in my head, so I can make the connections. I just want to make sure that you guys can!)**

**So next chapter you will find out where Ed is, and there will most likely be Royai (since I will describe in more detail Roy's efforts) and maybe some EdWin. I haven't titled (or even began writing) the chapter yet, but I'm liking the use of the title "Safe and Sound" sometime in the upcoming chapters (maybe it'll be this one) because I've been obsessively listening to Ellie Swisher and Landon Austin cover of the Taylor Swift song since I feel like it kind of fits with the story at this point.**

**Also, I decided to publish the story **_**Humanity **_**last week, so if it sounded interesting to you, definitely check it out (since I have two chapters up with a third probably coming out later this week/earlier next week). Don't worry, this is the last time I plug for another one of my stories in my A/Ns, unless I'm updating about when I think a chapter will come out or if I have plans for a related or unrelated one-shot, because I don't want to mix the two stories or do any shameless self-advertising.**

**Expect the next chapter to be out sometime next week (since my exams have finally slowed).**

**Finally, thank you to all that have reviewed, followed, and favorited **_**Pressure Point**_**! As I am typing this, I have 79 followers to this story. That is the best compliment one can receive, so thank you all :)**


	13. Determined Flame

Roy stood in front of the oak door of the apartment he had once frequented quite often; now, regrettably, he had only been a few times in the past year. After tapping against the door with his fist he waited, listening for any movement inside.

After he had "lightly" interrogated Alphonse over the phone, his conversation with the boy had led him here. Honestly, he shouldn't have been surprised.

A few moments later he heard the pitter-patter of a small pair of feet, followed by a quiet "I'm coming" and a pair of footsteps he assumed belonged to a certain blonde-haired girl.

When the door opened, a flash of a green and yellow dress bolted out of the door, tackling Roy's legs.

Looking up at the man, the brown-haired, green-eyed girl flashed him a wide, toothy grin. "Hiya Uncle Roy! Did you come to visit me?"

"Hello Elicia," Roy smiled as he knelt down and gave the girl a proper hug. "Why wouldn't I come visit you? Have you gotten taller?"

The little girl leapt back from his hug and stood on her tiptoes, beaming. "I did! Mommy said I grew three inches," she exclaimed as she held up three fingers.

"Wow! Three whole inches," Roy gasped, "That's tall!"

Elicia nodded before turning back and grabbing the hand of a surprised Winry, whom had been standing in the doorway, watching the pair. "Look, look! Uncle Roy came to visit us," the little girl proclaimed as she tugged the older girl forward. After pulling Winry through the doorframe, she stood on her toes again and peered around Roy.

"I see that, Elicia," Winry said as she glanced down at the distracted girl. Looking back at Roy with a nervous smile, she said, "Hello General Mustang. Is there something I can help you with? Gracia isn't here and-"

"Actually, I came by to see you," Roy replied as he stood, flashing her a soft smile, hoping to alleviate the girl's uneasiness. "Or rather, I came by to return this to Edward." Digging into his pocket, he fished out the boy's pocket watch and presented it to the girl.

"Oh! If you'd like, I can give it to him," Winry replied as she reached for the watch.

Roy curled his fingers around it and shoved it back into his pocket, still pseudo-smiling at the girl. "Actually, I'd rather give it to him myself. Would he happen to be around?"

"He-uh… He's…"

"He went to the library," the little girl stated proudly before returning to her task of peeking around the General.

Kneeling down once more to the girl's eye level, Roy gently clasped his hands on the little girl's shoulders. "Whatcha looking for, Elicia?"

The little girl folded her arms over her chest and huffed. "Mommy said that Aunt Riza came home, but I don't see her, so Mommy was lying!"

Roy gently shook his head and smiled at the young girl, "No, your mommy wasn't lying; Aunt Riza _is _home, but-"

Elicia let out another exasperated huff. "Then I'm mad at Aunt Riza. Why didn't she come to visit me with you?"

"Well, she's not feeling well, Elicia," Roy explained to the little girl. Feeling Winry's eyes on him, he continued slowly, "She got really sick while she was gone, so she's staying away until she feels better. Okay?"

"Okay…" The little girl sighed as she looked down at her feet gloomily.

Roy felt his expression soften. "Tell you what. When Aunt Riza feels better, I will bring her over and we can have a tea party. I bet she'll even let you do her hair. How does that sound?"

Elicia's head shot up and she smiled, "Okay! But you have to make me a promise."

"What's that?"

"You have to make Aunt Riza feel better soon," she replied confidently as she put her hands on her hips.

Roy smiled. "I'll do my best-"

"No," the little girl cut him off as she forcibly shook her head, "You can't just try. You _have _to because you're the only one that makes Aunt Riza smile."

"Is that so," Roy said amusedly, playing along.

"Well, you don't know because she does it when you aren't looking. Mommy says it's because you're both obivious*," she stated matter-of-factly.

Roy's heart did a quick flip. Hoping to cover any signs of surprise, he chuckled and ruffled the little girl's hair. "Yeah, I am oblivious, aren't I?"

Elicia nodded firmly. "But that's okay, because I will give you un-obivious tea at my tea party," she proclaimed proudly.

"I'm sure you will," Roy replied as he got to his feet. "Well," he continued, "I should get going. I have a couple more errands to run."

Elicia tackled his legs once again and hugged him. "Be sure to visit soon," she squealed as she gave his legs one final squeeze.

"I will," he promised. Glancing back up at a hesitant Winry after the little girl had let go, he nodded and murmured a polite goodbye before turning and departing down the hallway, his next destination clear in his mind.

* * *

Roy strode confidently through the library, casting the occasional glance down an aisle of books in the event that he'd see the boy. He had a feeling, however, that he'd find the boy where he always found him when he wanted to study in private.

Reaching the furthest corner of the library, Roy navigated his way through the bookshelves of the "Restricted" area before coming upon a wall of closed off rooms. Slowly walking past them and peering through the windows, he came upon one that had the door cracked open, casting a stray beam of light across the floor.

Peering through the crack, he was a familiar braid-wearing blond haired boy. Feet propped up on the table, Edward was slouched back in the wooden chair he was sitting on, balancing it on two of its four legs. In one hand he held a small red book just over his head, his other hand and arm draped over the back of the chair. As he rocked forward and backward slowly, he muttered to himself as he scanned the pages of the book.

After watching for a few moments, Roy finally pushed the door open and cleared his throat.

Startled, the young boy yelped and twisted around, grabbing the back of the chair, his eyes widened in surprise. Once he realized who it was, his shoulders relaxed and he let out an annoyed sigh. "Geez, you scared the hell out of me! Ever heard of knocking?"

Genuinely surprised by the boy's response, Roy replied crassly, "Well, the door _was _open."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. What do you want," the boy asked as he eyed him suspiciously.

Roy honestly didn't know how to respond. The dejected, submissive, unsure boy he had seen just a week ago was gone; instead replaced by the "old" Edward he had, admittedly, grown to miss. Suddenly remembering the boy had questioned him, he quickly dug into his pocket and pulled out the boy's silver pocket watch. "You left this behind," he stated coolly as he dangled it in front of him.

"Thanks," Edward mumbled as he snatched it from the older man's grasp. Turning back toward the table, Edward bent over and picked up the book he had dropped and flipped back to the page it was on. Noticing that Mustang was still dwelling in the doorway, he turned back to him. "'S that all?"

"You didn't go home to Resembool," Roy stated bluntly.

"Yeah," Edward shrugged as he turned back to the book. "Have to finish up some research. I'm going back to see Al in a couple of days." After pausing for a few moments, he continued, his voice lowered, "Did you know that Colonel Rodin was part of the Interrogation Division during the Ishvalan War?"

"Yes," Roy replied quickly. The man told him that when he first met him. After doing additional research, Roy had confirmed it for himself.

"Did you know that the Armstrong lineage only goes back for four generations?"

"What," Roy said, perplexed by the sudden change in thought by the boy.

"I didn't know you were adopted…" Edward continued.

"What does anything have to do with research," Roy snapped irritably.

Edward peered over his shoulder at the black-haired man, his eyes narrowed. "Everything." He sprang out of the chair and stood to face Roy, his arms folded across his chest. "Did you know that Turlorn was the epicenter for torturous techniques devised by the Amestrian government? Over six hundred Ishvalans were tortured and killed there during the first two years of the war. After leaving to advance further into Ishval, everything, including equipment and Ishvalan citizens, were left to rust and rot.

"Despite that and the fact that the Ishvalans knew of the horrendous history of that town, I can almost guarantee you that this was not prompted by a disgruntled Ishvalan. I can tell you, however, that at least one Drachman was involved."

Raising a brow and folding his arms across his chest, Roy leaned against the doorframe. "Go on," he commanded.

"The… method… they used that inflicted damage to Hawkeye's arm is a technique that has not been used in documented cases of interrogation and torture in over fifty years. You can't even find a description in any history books or official military documents." Grabbing the small red book off of the table, he shoved it into Roy's arms.

Opening it, Roy flipped through the pages and frowned. It was written entirely in Drachman. As he looked up at the boy with a confused expression, Edward continued.

"Yeah, that's all in Drachman. I spent the better part of the week translating it." Pointing to the golden letters on the cover, he noted, "That book contains all the information we have on the methods Drachman soldiers have used to interrogate Amestrian soldiers over the past two hundred years. One method in particular stood out; it's called the Silver Viper, but," he lowered his voice, "I'll explain it later."

"But," he looked up at Roy again; his eyes focused on the older man's, "I didn't just decide to research Drachman history out of sheer dumb luck. While at the scene in Turlorn, when Breda and I were invetigating the former command center, I accidentally stepped on a soda can that read 'Kuvahss,' which is a Drachman soft-drink sold exclusively in Drachma; trust me, I checked. So, I made that my starting point."

Ignoring the General's expression of awe, Edward wrapped up his observations, "Anyways, the reason why I brought up Armstrong and your adoption and whatever was because I wanted to prove that it's not hard to do research and find what you're looking for. Plus," he narrowed his eyes, "I'm sick of watching Investigations chase their tails. If you call up Rodin and have him ask the townspeople about seeing a man with Drachman heritage, there's bound to be _someone _that has seen something."

"Edward-"

"You know, this week has given me a lot of time to think," Edward interjected, ignoring the superior officer. "And I decided that I'm not going to follow orders anymore." He shoved his hands into his pockets and glared down at his feet, shifting uneasily. "I know I screwed up and you and Hawkeye have every right to hate me. But," he paused briefly to gather his thoughts, "But I want to help in any way that I can. Sending me back home won't do anyone any good."

"Edward-" Mustang continued again before getting cut off.

"So whether you like it or not," he looked up at the man, a glint of fierce determination in his eyes replaced any of his doubt, "I'm going to help. And this," he grabbed a set of papers he had stacked on the table, "has my report in it. I can have it to you tomorrow."

Finally it was Roy's turn to talk. To put it simply, he was flabbergasted. Even he knew that he had been harsh toward the boy. Honestly, he didn't think he would see the boy again. But there he was, standing in front of him, that same flame he had in his eyes when he had first met him years ago. He pushed himself off of the doorframe and straightened himself. "I expect your report no later than noon tomorrow."

Edward smirked, "I'll have it to you by 11."

* * *

After Mustang left, Edward let out a sigh of relief. He knew he'd have to talk to the man eventually, but he didn't think it would have been so soon. _Winry's words of encouragement and coaching had actually worked_, he thought to himself as he felt a small smile spread across his lips.

He had honestly thought of going back home, abandoning Central and leaving its inhabitants behind, figuring that he would somehow manage to live with the guilt. But Winry had never once given him the option, making excuses that ranged from wanting to stay with Gracia and Elicia for a few additional days to something as simple as wanting to try and find an elusive (and fictional, Edward later found out) automail shop that had some of the latest and greatest models.

When he finally demanded why she wanted to stay in Central so badly, Winry stared him straight in the eye and told him that she was waiting for _her _Edward. _Her _Edward didn't just give up. _Her _Edward bent the rules to gain the upper hand. _Her _Edward cheated Truth and restored his brother's body and his own. Because the Edward in front of her was not hers, and she wasn't leaving Central until she got him back.

He admits now that he was frustrated when she told him that. He _was_ the Edward she was supposedly waiting for.

She had simply shook her head in reply and said that he wasn't and again, she wouldn't leave until he came back.

After that point it only took him a few moments to understand her words and take them to heart.

She believed in him.

That was enough to give him the confidence he needed in order to keep going, despite being told he couldn't. This time he'd disobey orders for the right reasons. This time he wouldn't give up.

Gathering up a few of the books he had left scattered around the floor of the study room, he quickly made his way back into the library to reshelf them.

Once he had found their place, he began sliding them back onto the shelf one by one as he gathered his thoughts. He had given Mustang fragments that he had followed, but now he had to piece it all together. Now that he was back on the case, he'd have to ask Rodin if they had collected any of the litter at the scene to see if there were any additional clues there. He would have to, somehow, get a report on Hawkeye's condition in order to see if there were any other patterns he could deduce from her injuries. Then there was the whole process of finding those involved; and that would be the most challenging part. For all they knew, they could be long gone, disappeared back into the flow of society and-

The sound of a door slamming jerked Edward from his thoughts. After the ringing in his ears from the sudden noise had died down, he glared down the aisle, hoping to see the perpetrator. However, when no one passed by, he grumbled to himself and shelved the last book.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he strolled back to his secluded study room, deciding that he'd check a few more military records for any patterns or clues he could follow before finalizing his report. Upon getting to his room, however, he found the remainder of the books strewn about, their pages and his papers torn to shreds. Rushing into the room he frantically dug around the scattered papers on the floor.

His report. That was all he needed. Just his report.

After a minute of searching, he sat back on his heels and stared blankly at the mess before him. This can't be happening. This can't be happening!

Everything. The small red book. His research. His report…

It was all gone.

* * *

As Roy turned down the usual corridors of the hospital wing he now had memorized, he couldn't help but notice that he felt lighter. Something about that conversation with Edward had giving him a sense of peace. This sense, he decided, was attributed to the notion that the boy was no longer bound there. He wanted to be there; helping in any way that he could. His determination fueled Roy, igniting a spark of hope.

As he crept into Riza's room, he saw that she was sleeping on her right side, facing the door. Slowly making her way over to her bed, he slid into the chair near her bed and carefully took her hand in his, drumming his fingers on the back of her hand and making his presence known.

She wearily opened her eyes and blinked a few times, beating back whatever feelings of tiredness she possessed. What she did next was what took his breath away.

A small smile spread across her thin, paled lips as her eyes scanned up him, stopping at his face. Her smile widened, and his heart stopped, when her sherry eyes peered into his own.

* * *

**A/N: **_Yaaaaay. Things get good, then they get bad, but then they get good again (she can see him!)! I know that Edward's "research" might seem a bit confusing now, but it'll make sense later.(I'm actually quite proud of this chapter)._

_I hope the Elicia part wasn't too cheesy. I tried. The '*' was just put there to let you know that I spelt "oblivious" wrong on purpose. I feel like she wouldn't be able to say it correctly at only 4 years old._

_So, now things begin to get interesting._

_**Warning: **__Major Royai fluff next chapter :3 (which will hopefully be out in the next week or two), and there will probably be some action. Not sure what it will be called. _

_As always, thank you to everyone that has reviewed, favorited, and followed _Pressure Point. _You guys are amazing!_


	14. I See You

**Brief A/N: **_I'm sorry it's so short! But I decided to split the original chapter I had planned into __**two**__ parts. So this one is a retelling of the end of the last chapter from Riza's point of view._

_So sorry for the shortness… Don't hate me… Maybe the content will make up for it…?_

_More brief important __**A/N **__at the end…_

* * *

It was the same thing every time.

After Roy- _no, General_, she had to remind herself- left, her heart would begin to race. Her breathing would become quick and shallow, practically falling in line with the rapid pulsating she could feel in her ears.

Riza knew they were panic attacks. She had experienced them before, after returning home from the war in Ishval. Back then, the one thing that would ground her and bring her back to reality was a simple glance out the window of her apartment or a quick walk through East City. Something to remind her that she was no longer there; the war was over.

But this time there was no freedom in staring out the window or walking around. The only thing grounding her there was him.

So when he disappeared and became completely lost to her senses, she'd panic.

Because now there was no one there to explain to her that the person she felt take hold of her IV line was just a nurse_. _No one to tell her that the flooring she would sometimes hit _hard_ from pulling away and toppling from the bed was indeed linoleum and not the cold, hard concrete she had become accustomed to. And certainly no one was there to persuade her that the large, strong hands that took hold of her and tried to lift her were those that belonged to Dr. Marcoh and not one of _them_.

So when she knew that he would be leaving, she tried to force herself to sleep, to become oblivious to the world around. Sometimes it would work and sometimes it didn't.

The times it didn't work would be the times when the memory and pain from those three months would return with a cold-blooded vengeance. She tried desperately not to think about it; she knew that she needed to focus on healing. So her mind decided to remind her in other ways, even if she couldn't remember which memory was being replayed for her.

Every time she'd have one of those night terrors, he'd always be there coaxing her out of it. Every. Single. Time.

At first, it brought her an immediate sense of relief, realizing that it was him and not _them_. But on the other hand, after the short-lived feelings of comfort had passed, deep down inside herswlf, Riza felt incredibly selfish and foolish. Where had he been while these nightmares were happening? At his own home? Down the hall eating? Being productive? The thought that she was pulling him away from doing anything else made her feel worse.

These horrors she experienced in her sleep were taking their toll on him, even if he didn't admit it. Though her perception of time was greatly distorted, she at least had the sense that they were happening both day and night. Meaning that he was dropping what he was doing, whether it be sleep or work, and rushing to her side. How long _did _he actually sleep at night? Was he actually doing anything else besides attending to her?

She had asked him before. He simply replied in a coded message that he was. He even once handed her a stack of papers to prove that he was doing something.

…But then again, those could be scrap. Without seeing them for herself, how would she know? Without seeing his expression, his face, his eyes, she could never tell.

He could easily be lying to her in order to alleviate her guilt. It certainly wouldn't be the first time.

She felt doubt and guilt and resentment toward herself. She was holding him back. She was supposed to be there to keep him moving forward.

Now she was merely a hindrance, an obstacle that prevented him from doing what he needed.

All she wanted was to see again. To see for herself that she really was safe. To see that everything would be okay. To see that he was doing well: that there were no dark circles under his eyes from a lack of sleep, that his face wasn't bruised (though she was positive it was), and that there were no stress lines that had formed on his brow from the weight of the constant need he felt to be there for her.

Or maybe she just wanted to see him again…

But for now, she'd have to deal with the rapid beating of her heart and the stomach pains whilst trying to calm her breathing… at least until she was sure he was gone.

He was leaving now. He just told her.

She nodded her head and closed her eyes, waiting to feel the vibrations of his steps grow dim until he was out of the room and gone.

But instead he was dwelling, unmoving. She could feel his eyes on her.

Her heart rate began to climb in anticipation of his departure. She couldn't let it escalate further, lest he may decide to remain there.

_Remain calm, _she silently commanded herself as she took a large breath, exhaling slowly and deeply.

That seemed to satisfy him.

After a few seconds of residing next to her, he finally turned and slowly left, disappearing from her senses.

Before she could allow herself to panic, she took another deep breath and exhaled, allowing her muscles to relax. She was more exhausted than she thought.

Feeling herself begin to drift, she pushed the feelings of anxiety by doing something that she maybe should have done all along: by focusing on seeing his face, remembering what he looked like.

Who would have thought, she realized later, that that would be enough to chase the nightmares away.

* * *

"_I see you…"_

_Riza had been surprised by his voice. Setting her book down and turning her head to look towards his bed, she saw that the Colonel was facing her; his grey, blinded eyes fixated on where he knew her bed was. _

_The men were gone for the day, having left about an hour or so ago. It had been a long day, but judging by the answers to the questions fired at the Colonel by the men, she knew that those long days of learning were paying off. _

_He had been particularly exhausted this day, so she wasn't surprised that he had fallen asleep almost immediately after they had left. But now she was left wondering; had he been awake this entire time?_

"_Sir," she responded, her tone reforming that utterance into a question._

_He smiled and shook his head. "It's exactly as I said, Lieutenant." He pushed himself into a sitting position, allowing his legs to dangle off the bed. "I see you."_

_She furrowed her brow and watched the Colonel for a few moments. Normally, she understood the underlying message in his words. But this time, she honestly didn't. "I'm sorry sir, but I don't follow."_

_He chuckled lightly. "I should probably be a bit clearer, shouldn't I?" Planting his feet on the ground, he stood and stretched. As he took a step toward her bed, Riza was already out of it and in front of him, quickly removing the chair Breda had accidentally left in his path._

_Hearing the sound of the chair scraping across the floor just in front of him, the Colonel raised his brows and smiled playfully. "I didn't realize you were so eager, Riza."_

_She couldn't help but roll her eyes. He had tried his just a few days before, dropping rank and calling her Riza. Sure, it made her heart skip a beat when he uttered her name, but if anyone else had heard it, it could spell trouble for both of them. "Sir…" she warned as she took a step toward him, hoping to guide him back toward his bed, for fear that he'd find something to trip over. _

_Using the sound of her voice to guide him, Roy lifted his hands and found her shoulders, squeezing them gently as his playful demeanor melted away. "I was just thinking about how grateful I am to have you by my side. Despite everything that's happened, everything that _could _happen… you've remained with me, unwavering in your loyalty." His smile faltered, giving way to a pained expression, "I thought I was going to lose you… and…" _

"_I'm still here," she murmured, silently reassuring him of her unshakable promise to always be there no matter what. She began to slowly lift her hands, hoping to take his wrists and guide him back to his bed, but was stopped when he moved again._

_Obviously feeling her shift, he navigated his hands from her shoulders, brushing over the bandages on her neck, gently taking her face in his hands. His eyes somehow found hers, seeming to stare into them, into her soul. "I know," Roy replied softly, his small smile returning. "I just want to let you know that I see you… and that I always have."_

_Riza felt her face grow warm. She was thankful that he couldn't see her reddening cheeks. _

_There had always been that electricity, that spark, between them. But it… this… was wrong. They were superior and subordinate; nothing more, nothing less. At least, that's what she tried to make herself believe._

_She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't realize he had moved again, guiding her face toward his. Suddenly his lips were on hers, the abrupt action taking her breath away. _

_She should have pulled away, scolded him for his brashness… but she didn't. Instead, once she had regained her senses, she found herself leaning into him, matching his pressure with her own. _

_It was wrong. He knew it and she knew it. But at that moment, that single moment, neither one seemed to care, each of them lost in their feelings and desires._

_It was wrong… but it felt right._

_She found herself wanting that moment to last forever, but her logical side was admonishing her, berating her for allowing this to happen._

_Her logical side was right. It was right. It was right. It was right…_

_But just one more moment…_

_Just one more…_

* * *

_Crash!_

Riza's eyes flew open as the sound of breaking glass jolted her from her sleep. She immediately turned her head toward the source of the noise, dazed by the sudden stimulation. Outside the door she could hear two voices, one apologizing to the other for its clumsiness. After a minute or so of constant chatter, and the sounds of scraping glass, the two voices faded away.

She slowly closed her eyes and turned her head, straightening her neck. After a few moments of resting again, however, her eyes opened once more, staring at-no, seeing- the popcorn ceiling above her.

It took her a few moments to register it, but when she did, she let out an audible gasp.

Her senses had returned.

* * *

Riza waited for him.

It may seem childish, but she didn't care. She wanted him to be the first one she saw, even if that meant feigning sleep. After all, he had given her the same privilege when his sight was returned to him.

After a few hours of resting, she suddenly heard him talking, exchanging pleasantries with a staff member.

Her pulse quickened. She couldn't help it.

Closing her eyes again, she allowed herself to listen to the sound of his voice. She never realized how comforting it was.

She could hear his footsteps now; he was in her room.

Like he always did, he sat down in the chair closest to her bed, taking her hand in his. Before he could tap out his message, however, she opened her eyes.

Blinking a few times to reassure herself that what she was seeing was real, she slowly let her eyes wander upward, past his blue uniform and up to his face, until they found his dark, onyx eyes .

For a moment, neither one wavered, both of them too focused on watching the other.

Roy's mouth hung slightly open, as if he was unsure that she could really see him. She felt a smile spread across her face. Before she could speak, he broke the silence, his voice first coming out as a whisper.

"Riza…" He choked, his eyes glistening with hope.

This was real. It wasn't a dream…

"I see you," she murmured as her smile widened.

This real…

It wasn't a dream…

It was him…

* * *

**A/N: **_So… that "dream" Riza had… Was it a memory, or simply a dream? Stay tuned…_

_Again, I apologize for how short the chapter was. But I decided that I wanted to split the original concept into two chapters. So next time there will be more Royai (and more detail as to what Riza sees) and more going on (definitely involving Edward…) – I promise it'll be a bigger chapter. Don't hate me._

_Also, please please please tell me if they seemed OOC. I had this scene in my head, and I felt like they weren't, but maybe it's because I wanted this to happen. O.O_

**_Briefly on conversion disorder: Yes, symptoms can literally disappear and appear just like that..._**

_On another note, I have almost hit 100 followers with this story… So I'd like to celebrate with a Royai one-shot. If anyone has any ideas on genre (romance/humor, romance/angst, etc.?) let me know by PM or if you write a review for this chapter. _

_I'll also be posting updates on where chapters/stories are on my page from now on to give everyone an idea of where they're at…_

_Again, thank you to all that have followed, favorited, and reviewed for _Pressure Point_! You guys are great! :)_


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